The Bachelor
by Jane Christie
Summary: What if Henry VIII was given the opportunity of choosing a wife, one wife, from among the six he had in reality? Would history be re-written by a simple choice made by one of the most famous womanizers in history? Will he get the son he always desired-?
1. Chapter 1

**The Bachelor**

BASED ON THE LIFE OF HENRY VIII OF ENGLAND

**CHAPTER I**

_Author's Note: In this chapter, Henry is 13 years old. Charles Brandon is 18. In reality, Charles was approx. 7 years older than Henry._

Henry Tudor fell against a tree, breathing hard. He struggled to catch his breath. He glanced around the garden warily for his attacker. His heart pumped rapidly with blood and adrenaline. He couldn't sit there forever; sooner or later, he'd have to get up and make a run for it.

He got to his feet slowly, and slipped around the trunk of the tree. He saw that the path to the palace entrance was clear; if he was quick, he could reach it without being caught. Giving himself another moment to breathe, he prepared himself to run. With one final breath, Henry pushed away from the tree and ran madly towards the path.

He did not make it ten feet before he was knocked off his feet, thrown to the ground by his enemy. Henry cried out as he hit the ground with a resounding _thud_. He groaned, rubbing his shoulder, which would surely now bruise.

"Got you," his attacker said as he sat up in the grass.

Henry sat up as well, and narrowed his eyes. "This once," he replied, "Never again, I promise you."

Charles Brandon laughed heartily. "Just admit it, Harry," he said joyously, "You'll never beat me."

"You brag because you're bigger and stronger than I am, but you cannot deny that one day I'll be far greater than you ever will be!"

"Without a doubt," Charles replied, "Now, shall we play again, or is your Grace too exhausted from the exertion?"

Henry knew a dare when he heard it. "This time, I'll find _you!_"

The boys grinned at each other and got to their feet. They were about to run, when Charles said, "Look out; here comes the Dragon Lady!"

Henry glanced up the path to see his grandmother, Lady Margaret Beaufort, walking down the path. She walked purposefully down the path towards the boys.

"Perhaps she hasn't seen us; perhaps we can run," Charles suggested.

"It's too late," Henry said with a shake of his head, "It's not possible that she hasn't seen us."

"Harry!" Margaret Beaufort said as she neared them.

Henry winced at the sound of his grandmother's shrill voice. "Grandmother," Henry said as he stepped forward.

"Your father demands your presence inside. He's in the hall," Margaret stated, "Charles, you may go now."

Charles frowned. He'd been hoping to spend more time with his friend, who he hadn't seen for a while, but he followed Lady Beaufort's orders and left.

Henry followed his grandmother into the palace. His father, the King Henry VII, was sitting in the hall as Lady Beaufort had said he'd be. "York," the King stated.

Henry bowed before his father, and kissed his hand. The King signalled for him to rise. He addressed his mother. "Where is Arthur?"

"He is finishing with his tutor; he will be down shortly."

King Henry nodded. "You may leave us," he told his mother.

Lady Beaufort nodded reluctantly; she obviously wanted to wait and see what the king had to say to his sons, but she obliged the king and left.

Henry waited quietly and meekly until his father was ready to speak to him. It did not take long. "I'd like to talk to you about my expectations," King Henry said, "Are you aware of what is expected of you, as Duke of York, and as my son?"

Henry frowned. "I believe I am, my lord."

"Are you?" The king rose from his chair, "I have received reports that you have met sparingly with your tutors during the past three weeks. Some days, I am told, you do not meet with them at all. And when with them, I am told that you will pay no attention to them."

Henry was indignant, but did not dare to say so out loud.

"You do not do me proud through these actions, your Grace," the King said loudly, "I have shown you great favour by offering you the best in education, and yet you dare to rebuke me?"

Henry clenched his fists, and did not speak.

"What have you to say, York?" King Henry demanded.

"I do not believe the accusations are fair, my lord," Henry said.

"Then you claim to have been studying diligently all along?"

"I do," Henry said.

"Then you mean to say that you haven't been wasting your days, playing silly games and engaging in fruitless endeavours? As you are well aware, you are to enter the Church. To do so, you must be learned. How are you to be educated, if you do not take time to learn?"

"I will try harder, my lord father," Henry said quietly.

The King's temper cooled. "Just make sure that you do."

Just then, two other members of the Tudor family entered. The Queen, Elizabeth of York, entered with her eldest child, the Prince of Wales, Arthur. The King's face lit up at the sight of his wife and son. "See here, Harry," he motioned to his elder son, "Your elder brother spent nearly the entire day with his tutors; improving his mind, allowing himself to be educated. Will you not follow his example?"

"I am not to be king as Arthur is," Henry said crossly.

"That is so, but you are going into the Church. That is a very important profession. England would be thrust into great chaos were it not for the complete stability of its religion," the king stated, "It would please me if you were to follow Arthur's example."

"Yes, your majesty."

"You may go, now. I have to speak with your brother," the king ordered.

"I'll take Harry to his quarters, if it pleases your majesty," the queen said.

The king nodded brusquely, and Elizabeth led her son out of the room. Henry was quiet as he and his mother walked through the corridors of the palace. "Do not think that he judges you harshly, Harry," his mother said softly.

"It's hard not to think that," Henry replied, "He compares me to Arthur. He always will."

"Arthur is his heir, and his temper suits the king," Elizabeth stated, "But you are also his son, and he is very fond of you."

"If I was to be king, he'd like me better."

"Don't think such things. He'll be proud of you whatever you do."

"That's unlikely," Henry replied.

Elizabeth sighed, for she knew what high standards her husband held for their children. "You will do him proud, Henry; I know you will," she promised.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: First off, thanks so much to everyone who read/reviewed chapter 1, and I am glad you like it so far (enough to return for chapter 2!!)_

_**DISCLAIMER: **I, of course, do not own the characters or any part of "The Tudors". Darn._

_For the purposes of the story, I have made Arthur and Catherine of Aragon older than they actually were in real life. In reality, Arthur died at age 15, but in this story, he is married to Catherine at 16, and she is eighteen. Arthur is, in this story, 3 years older than Henry, instead of the 5 years older he was in reality._

* * *

**CHAPTER II**

"Arthur, we have word from Spain at long last," Henry VII told his son happily.

Arthur shifted uneasily. His long-arranged marriage to the Princess of Aragon and Castile had been put off on many occasions. Relations between the two countries were not especially good for many years, and though an alliance with Spain could prove advantageous, for many years both countries examined other possibilities. After much deliberation, however, it was finally decided that Arthur and the Spanish princess would marry. Now, Arthur was sixteen. King Henry had wanted his son to be married at least a year previously, but the Spaniards had taken longer to convince.

"The Spanish princess will be on English soil in a month's time; you are to be a husband, my son. Are you not pleased?"

Arthur frowned nervously. "I am, my lord father."

"You do not sound pleased," the king said, "Have you not been exchanging letters with the princess for nearly three months?"

"I have," Arthur said. He supposed that his father said this to instil confidence in him. However, it did no such thing. The letters were dictated by tutors, and written in Latin. The Spanish princess seemed just as far away as she ever did.

"And does she not impress you? Your tutors tell me she is very intelligent, and reportedly very beautiful."

"I believe she is so,"

"So you are pleased?"

"Yes, my lord. I am satisfied that I shall be very content with the princess."

"As am I. Good, it is settled. Prepare yourself. You may now retire."

Arthur bowed and began to retreat. "Arthur," the king stopped him, "Has your health improved? I heard you were unwell."

"I am better now, father, thank you," Arthur replied.

The king nodded, pleased. He left the hall. Arthur sighed. He turned and headed back to his chambers.

As Arthur was about to enter his chambers, he noticed his younger brother coming down the corridor towards him. "I hear your bride is to arrive shortly," Henry stated.

"Yes, she is," Arthur said shortly.

"Is this not a happy event?" Henry asked.

"It is," Arthur replied.

"Then why don't I hear any joy in your voice?"

"Perhaps I'd be more pleased if I actually knew her, and knew what I was up against."

"Up against?" Henry frowned, "She is a princess, and from Spain, no less. She may be the daughter of Isabella and Ferdinand, but she is a princess, a girl, after all. What have you to fear?"

"I do not fear anything. I am happy, and I am looking forward to her arrival."

"As well you should be," Henry said comfortingly, "I've heard tell that she's incredibly beautiful, and accomplished and educated. As she is of royal blood, she shall certainly make a good queen. No man could want more in a wife."

"You are right, Harry; I know. I will learn to be happy with the princess."

"And if you are not, of course, you can live in separate residences. God knows we have no shortage of palaces in which you could safely tuck her away."

"It is difficult to produce an heir when a couple are living in two different places, you know, Harry," Arthur joked.

"Then you must send for her periodically, when producing an heir suits your fancy," Henry grinned.

Arthur laughed, "It is good that you are bound for the church, brother. I fear that you would treat your wife abominably ill!"

"Of course not. If I were to choose a wife, I would choose one who would respect and honour me above all else, and never dare to displease me, so I should have no desire to be rid of her."

"Respect, honour and fear, you mean."

"Respect me, honour me, and fear me, as she respects the wisdom, honours the glory, and fears the wrath of God," Henry stated, "Your wife owes you that much. Make sure that she treats you well, Arthur."

"Would you not love her?"

"If I were very lucky, I just might."

"You are not God, you know; neither am I. My wife need not behold me as such."

"It is true, I am not God, and neither are you; however, you are the next best thing, King Arthur," Henry continued walking up the corridor, then turned around, "That being said, long live our father, the king; may his life and reign be long, and his dynasty longer."

The expectation of the princess's arrival in a mere month was unfounded; the journey took much longer than had been predicted.

Finally, the princess's company landed in Plymouth, where she was greeted by the Spanish ambassador to Scotland, Pedro de Alaya. The ambassador to England, Rodrigo Gonzales de Puebla, was not even yet aware of the princess's arrival; he'd been outwitted by Alaya, who wanted to be the one to meet the Spanish princess. The trick was unknown to the princess's company, and so they then began the journey to meet the royal family in London.

Even the journey to London was long and tedious. A month passed by, and yet the princess was not in London. King Henry was quickly losing his patience. It was not long before he proclaimed that if the princess wouldn't come to him, then he would go and meet her himself. He took himself and Arthur to the village of Dogmersfield, where the princess was resting.

The Spaniards were outraged. It was against their customs, they declared; neither the bridegroom nor his father should set eyes on the bride until after the wedding. However, the king was determined, and so they went to Dogmersfield, and demanded to see the princess.

Catalina was astounded when she was told that the king of England was outside her door. "I could not possibly see him now!" she exclaimed, in her native Spanish tongue.

"It is an outrage!" Catalina's duenna, Doña Elvira Manuel told the ambassador angrily, "She cannot see him; tell his majesty that the princess is indisposed."

The ambassador re-entered to inform them that the king declared he would see the princess, no matter the circumstance. "His son, the Prince of Wales, is here as well. He also wishes to see his bride."

Catalina's eyes lit up at once. "The prince; he is here to see me?" She turned to her ladies-in-waiting, who smiled at her. "I will see them," Catalina decided.

"My lady, no!" Doña Elvira cried.

"We are in England now, Doña," Catalina replied, "We must learn to adapt, sooner or later. If it must be sooner, then so be it."

Doña Elvira drew her lips together tightly. "If your mother were here, she would never forgive me for this. At the very least, my lady Catalina, cover your face and head. Surely the indomitable king would not object to this," she turned and glared at the ambassador, who quickly shook his head.

"Surely not, Doña Elvira, but I must mention that the English put great store in the beauty of their women. Indeed, the king and prince would like to witness for themselves the great beauty of Princess Catalina."

"No, I will never consent to this. They can see that she is healthy and able-bodied. That is all they require. If they need more assurance, they can consult the portraits that were kindly sent to them," Doña Elvira stated.

Catalina smiled at her duenna's protectiveness. "Please, help prepare me," she called to her ladies. Maria de Salinas, one of her favourites, squeezed her hand. Catalina smiled at her. She was excited to be seeing her future husband and father-in-law.

Catalina placed herself before the door, and gave the signal to open in. The king of England, in all his royal glory, strode into the room, his presence immediately arresting it.

Catalina heard herself being introduced: "_Infanta Catalina de Arag__ó__n y Castilla"._ More words followed her name, and she supposed it was the king being announced: "His Highness Henry VII, the King of England and France, Lord of Ireland." Catalina didn't understand a single word of the introduction, but smiled despite the fact that the king probably couldn't see her face through the veil. More words followed, and Catalina finally recognized a name: Arthur, Prince of Wales. She watched eagerly, awaiting her husband-to-be to appear. When finally he did, Catalina was surprised. The man she'd heard about, the man who was to marry her and become king, was nothing more than a frail boy. Her immediate reaction was shock, and then slowly came acceptance. Despite being small in stature, the boy was admittedly good-looking, if not handsome. He had kind eyes, Catalina could see, and a friendly smile on his face.

At that moment, she made the decision- perhaps ill-advised decision- to disobey Doña Elvira; she raised her veil to allow the king and his son her face. The stern visage of the king eased into a gentler near-smile. She raised her head high and smiled, greeting them warmly in Spanish. The king's words followed; neither of them understood a word the other said, but they didn't have to. Both were satisfied with the result of their meeting.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note:__ Welcome back to The Bachelor; Chapter 3!!! Like the previous chapters, this is a lot of background into Henry's character, but you get some nice insight into Catalina too, I think :). This isn't really a long chapter, but they will get a little longer. For those of you eagerly awaiting the entrance of Henry's other five wives, you won't have to wait too long. I think you just have to get to know Henry and his character first! :D Thanks for reading, and don't forget to review!! I love reading reviews, complete with any constructive criticism you might have._

_ENJOY!!_

**Disclaimer:** I don't own "The Tudors". This is just fanfiction. Also, if I screw up any history while writing this, I try to acknowledge it. It's for the good of the story!!!

* * *

**CHAPTER III**

King Henry and Arthur arrived at York Place, the main residence of the royal family, a short while later. They'd left the Spanish princess only a little while ago, and she was still en route to London.

"My lord, how did you find the princess?" Elizabeth of York asked her husband excitedly when he and their son arrived at the palace. The young princesses Margaret and Mary waited nearby to hear about their future sister-in-law. Henry watched with interest from a short distance.

"The princess is well; healthy, and in good spirits," the king answered.

"When shall she arrive in London?" Mary asked eagerly, "I have been so looking forward to meeting her!"

"What does she look like?" Margaret spoke up.

"She appeared much as I was told she would. Pale complexion, well-built, very pretty auburn hair. I believe she will do very well as an English princess."

"When will she arrive?" Mary asked again.

"Soon, I should hope," the king answered, giving her a reproving look, for speaking out of turn.

"Why did you not bring her along?" the queen asked.

"She would not get here in good time, as I wanted to. However, it will not take much longer. I have decided to send her an escort, to assist her for the rest of her journey," the king turned to face his younger son, "York!"

"Yes, my lord?" Henry scrambled to his feet and faced his father.

"You will meet the princess at Kingston-upon-Thames and bring her to London. Perhaps you can hurry her along on her journey."

"I will do my best, my lord," Henry said, trying to mask his joy and excitement.

"When she arrives in London, you will be her guide through the welcoming ceremonies, and be at her service until she weds your brother."

"Yes, my lord."

"Very good. I will send Buckingham with you. He will make reports to me of your progress."

Henry bowed to his father.

"Go prepare yourself, York," King Henry dismissed his son, and walked away himself, followed by his wife and daughters, who were eager to hear more about the Spanish princess.

Henry grinned at his brother, who was taking a drink to relieve his parched throat. "It appears that I shall meet your lovely bride," Henry said.

"Yes," Arthur said.

"Well, aren't you jealous that I shall be accompanying your bride here, instead of you?"

"Why should I be jealous?" Arthur frowned, "I shall spend the rest of my life with her. I do not begrudge you the priveledge of traveling with her this once."

"Well, you need not worry," Henry said, essentially ignoring his brother's comments, "I will see that she comes to no harm."

"You're very gracious, your Grace," Arthur raised his eyebrows.

"Perhaps you had better prepare me, Arthur," Henry said, following his brother as he left the room, "What is she like?"

"Very pretty. A true gentlewoman. She is everything one expects the princess to be."

"Then you are pleased with her?"

"Yes," Arthur said, "I am very pleased. I am sure we will be very happy. I look forward to her arrival in London, so we can finally be wed."

"What a wonderfully practiced answer, brother," Henry remarked.

"Harry, please," Arthur sighed, "I will be happy. She is very kind, and good, I'm sure. Forgive me if I lack the appropriate enthusiasm, but I am much tired from my journey. I beg you will excuse me as I retire to my chambers."

"Of course. Rest, refresh yourself. I will be gone by morning, no doubt, to meet England's newest princess. Surely I will not be disappointed!"

"Surely not. Good-night, Henry."

"God give you rest, Arthur. You will need to be prepared for the celebration of your bethrothed's arrival!"

Arthur gently closed the door on his brother, who grinned merrily. "You are frightened, Arthur. It does not befit a king to be worried so about a girl!"

The next morning, Henry set off with the Duke of Buckingham, along with a company of servants, to meet the Spanish princess.

Earlier that morning, Charles Brandon had seen him off. "Now, don't fall in love with her, Harry!" Charles advised.

"Why would I do that?" Henry demanded, "Fall in love with my brother's fiancée? It is unheard of."

"In that case, do not let her fall in love with you. You are very charming, and she is in great danger of being wooed accidentally by you."

"Do not be ridiculous, Charles! I pose no such danger. I am to get my future sister from Kingston, and bring her to wed my brother. There will be little time for wooing."

"Well, be a gentleman. At least give her a little thrill of flirtation before she's sent into tedious matrimony," Charles grinned.

"Do not be so despicable, Charles, if you can help it!" Henry grinned, and then turned his horse and lead the way out of the courtyard onto the road to Kingston-upon-Thames.

It did not take long to meet up with the princess's company. Henry was not surprised to see an entourage of hundreds following the Spanish princess on her way to London. His father was nothing if not extravagant. Henry's own company slowed to a halt upon encountering the princess. Henry rode his horse right up to the front, where he saw one of the Spanish ambassadors riding alongside a young girl. The girl wore a hat and veil, but Henry could clearly see her auburn hair and fair complexion. Judging from that and her fine clothes, Henry knew he was safe in assuming that this was the princess.

Henry rode his horse up to them. He heard the ambassador murmuring words in Spanish for the princess, who listened carefully, all the while watching Henry.

Henry dismounted, and got to his knee. "I, the Duke of York, am at your command, your highness," he said to the princess.

The princess glanced at the ambassador, who quickly translated. She then turned her head back towards Henry, and bowed it gracefully. She spoke a few quick words in Spanish, and the ambassador called to Henry, "The princess of Aragon thanks your Grace."

Henry raised to his full height, and approached the princess and ambassador. "I have come to hasten the princess on her journey," Henry said, "All of London eagerly awaits her. My brother waits impatiently to become her husband."

After a moment of translation, the ambassador stated, "Her highness is equally eager. She assures you that your enthusiasm is encouraging, and hopes that London and the Prince are not far away."

"They are very near, indeed. Now, we must spend no more time loitering. London awaits!" Henry turned and mounted his horse, and brought it alongside the princess's. "I am to be your official escort," he told her in Latin. He knew that that was the language in which she corresponded with Arthur, so surely he could do the same. "I am to guide you through the traditions of our country, until I pass you on to your husband."

Catalina smiled at the sound of a familiar language. "I thank you with my whole heart, your Grace. Your generosity is overwhelming. I yearn for the day I can call you 'brother' in earnest."

"It will not be long, my lady," Henry assured her with a smile, and then he urged his horse along.

* * *

London was like nothing Catalina had ever seen before. Approaching the town, she could see the tall houses packed closely together. The woods and fields disappeared, and there were curious people all around. The roads were tight, and the company pressed through the streets. Everything was muddy, and an unpleasant smell seemed to linger. The people stopped to stare, some reaching out to touch her, some calling out to her. Catalina was surprised, almost to the point of confusion, and yet she did not let it show. These were her people now, and she would treat them as such. She gave a pleasant smile to all she passed, and caused a momentary swell as she waved her hand towards them. It was comforting to have Arthur's younger brother escorting her, riding on his mount proudly. How unlike his brother he was! He was tall, and strong, with bright colour and full of life. Very much like his brother, however, he was comforting and attractive to look at.

Catalina looked back, to where her duenna and ladies were riding. Doña Elvira did not look pleased as she bounced down the narrow roads. She was not a natural horsewoman, and would have preferred to be within the confines of a carriage.

That night, and for many nights to follow, there was a great banquet to welcome the princess to England. Catalina felt jostled and confused, and was grateful for Henry's guiding hand.

Sitting beside her at the banquet table, Henry proceeded to tell her all- or as much as he could- about England. "This is only to be expected," he called over the hubbub, "There will be jousts and concerts and ceremonies enough in the next few days to satisfy you for the rest of your life!"

Catalina was glad that the duke's Latin was comprehensible. Someone else- a duke, she supposed- had tried to be clever and converse with her in Spanish, and then in Latin. They both discovered that he had no talent for either language, and he quickly left her alone. "Is it always this- unconventional?"

"It is always this loud," Henry grinned, "As Princess of Wales, I fear you will not get a great deal of simple peace and quiet."

"How grateful I am to your Grace for making sure that I am comfortable during this time. Your Grace can only imagine how very lost I am!"

"Harry," the boy said, "We are to be brother and sister. You must call me Harry."

"I am Catalina," she replied, returning his friendly smile.

"You will not be able to keep your name, I'm afraid," Henry remarked, "But I suppose that you already knew that."

Catalina nodded despondently.

Henry placed his hand on hers to comfort her. "I will call you Catalina," he promised, "If only in private."

"What will they call me?" she asked.

"I believe you are to be called Catherine."

"Catherine," Catalina replied.

"I much prefer the sound of the name Catalina," Henry said earnestly.

"You are very kind, your Grace-" Catalina stopped herself, and laughed softly, "Forgive me. You are very kind, Harry."

Henry grinned, and raised his cup. "Come, my future sister," he said, "Shall we raise a glass to your health?"

"And yours, my future brother."

"May God bless and keep us both," Henry said, "And may you be very happy and comfortable in England, and not miss Spain too much."

"And may we always be as good friends as we are this night," Catalina added.

"Surely we will be," Henry replied, "You shall be in England for a very long time, and I'm not going anywhere. It will be impossible to escape friendship. Are you reconciled to that fact?"

"On the contrary, my dear Harry, I am overjoyed by that fact."

"As am I, Catalina."


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Congrats. You've reached Bachelor Chapter 4. I hope you've liked it up till now, and I hope you will continue to read it. This is kind of a longer chapter, but I wanted to squeeze in as much of the background Arthur-Catherine stuff as I could into this chapter so that I could get to the Henry-wives stuff. You'll get a little bit more of the wives in Chapter 5, I promise. If you like it, or even if you don't, don't forget to review. If you do like it, tell your friends! :D_

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters or any plot lines I possibly borrow from the show "The Tudors." I also try to stay as true to history as I can.

_Enjoyyyy!!_

* * *

**CHAPTER IV**

Six months after the arrival of Princess Catalina of Aragon from Spain, she and Prince Arthur of Wales were married.

On the day of the ceremony, Catalina was very nervous. She didn't know just why; she'd been preparing herself for this eventuality for a very long time. Her duenna, and her ladies as well, had been preparing her since her arrival in England. Her mother and father and sisters had been preparing her since birth. Now, Catalina was ready. She was to be a wife.

"No one can hold a candle to you, my lady," Maria de Salinas said happily, "We've made sure of that. You shall be the finest queen that England has ever seen!"

"You pamper my vanity, Maria," Catalina smiled.

"Ladies, no chattering," Doña Elvira said briskly, "This is a very important day, and if we are made late by your talking, we might as well all go back to Spain in disgrace."

"Doña Elvira, it is my wedding day," Catalina said, "Cannot you even let me chatter with my ladies this one day?"

"One day of foolhardy behaviour could easily lead to your downfall, and it is best you learn this now," Doña Elvira said, "You are likely to be the most laughable queen in the world if all you do is gossip and giggle!"

"I don't care what Doña Elvira says," Maria said quietly when the older woman retreated, "I am so happy for you, my lady. I pray that your life with the prince is happy and long."

"And I pray that you, my loyal friend, are always with me to share in it," Catalina said, "I hope all of my ladies are happy here in England," she shared warm smiles with all of her ladies-in-waiting.

"A thousand blessings to you, Infanta Catalina!" Inez de Venegas exclaimed, and the other ladies echoed her.

"My lady," Doña Elvira re-entered the room, "They are ready for you now! You must go!"

Catalina nodded quickly, and looked at her ladies, with whom she exchanged nervous smiles. Catalina quickly turned to the mirror, to take one last glimpse of herself. She was, undoubtedly, very beautiful. Her dress was of white satin, so bright and clean that it shone. The gold embroidering and the dozens of jewels that adorned her glimmered in the slightest light. It was a heavy outfit, but Catalina's heart was so light that she barely felt the weight of the dress.

"My lady Catalina!" Doña Elvira exclaimed, "Go, now!"

"Doña Elvira, they have waited for me this long," Catalina said, "Can I not have a moment to myself?"

"They are anxious, and have been waiting for far too long."

"Of course. I will go now." Catalina placed her hands before her and, with her ladies helping her move her dress, Catalina moved forward.

It was the fourteenth of November, a Sunday, when Catalina went to Saint Paul's Cathedral to be made Princess of Wales. It had been a long six months, but at long last, Catalina and Arthur were to be married.

Henry was to walk her through the church to meet her future husband. He waited for her, dressed similarly in white with gold embroidering. He took her hand solemnly, and then gave her a small smile. "You look beautiful, Catalina," he said in soft Latin.

"Thank you, Harry," Catalina answered, smiling anxiously back at him.

"Come," he said, "Your husband awaits."

The cathedral was quiet as they entered, and all eyes turned to look at Catalina. As she moved forward, she struggled to hold her head up high. She was grateful for the veil covering her face as she felt a single tear slip down her cheek. She quickly reprimanded herself. What reason had she to be upset? Arthur was kind, surely, and even if he wasn't, his family certainly was. At least- Harry was. Catalina had yet to meet Arthur's sisters or mother. Thinking of his family made her long for hers. Her dear mother, Isabella of Castile and her father Ferdinand of Aragon; how Catalina wished they could witness the event unfolding that day! Catalina wished her elder sister and brother, Isabel and Juan, could know how far she'd come from Spain, but sadly they'd died a few years earlier, within a year of each other, with Isabel's son following shortly behind her. Catalina thought also of her two remaining elder sisters, Juana and Maria; she wondered if they had felt all of the things that she was feeling now, on her wedding day. She wondered if Juana had any qualms about changing her name to 'Joanna' when she married Philip of Burgundy. Catalina wasn't sure she wanted her name to become 'Catherine.' Now she, Catalina, the youngest of them all, was getting married in a strange land. How daunting a thought was that!

She supposed she was squeezing Henry's hand too tightly as she was lost in her thoughts, because he set a gentle hand upon her to calm her. "My family," he said under her breath, so that only she could hear him. She followed his glance to the royal family. "Our family," he added, "You will know them soon. You are to meet them shortly after your wedding. Here is Arthur now. This is where I leave you, Catalina. Fear not; we will be unable to avoid meeting again."

Catalina nodded gratefully at Henry, and slowly released his hand, stepping up beside Arthur. She glanced at him, but he kept his eyes firmly looking forward. Catalina turned her head again to look forward. They kneeled together before the archbishop. Catalina glanced at Arthur out of the corner of her eyes. Even when kneeling, he was at least a head shorter than she was! How different from Harry, who, despite being even younger than his brother, was very tall. But then, there was nothing wrong with Arthur. Admittedly, she'd only met him once, but he'd seemed very kind and cordial towards her. Everything would be alright.

At last they stood, and Catalina felt the veil being lifted from her face. She looked nervously upon the face of her husband, who stared back with anxious eyes. Then, a small smile lit up his face, and warmed her to the very depths of her soul. His kind smile would always relieve her tension. He was handsome, though younger than she, and though he was shorter, surely he'd grow out of that.

He took her hand gently and, as he lead her out, he smiled, and said in Latin, "How do you do, my dear wife?"

Catalina smiled warmly at him. "I am very well, husband, now that we are at last wed."

Outside, Catalina felt a hand on her arm. It was Henry. "I am to take you to Bayard's castle, for another banquet," he smiled sympathetically, "Arthur is required to stay here for a time. Brother, congratulations on your marriage. I'm sorry to steal your bride away, but I'm afraid it can't be avoided."

Arthur nodded, and then smiled at Catalina. "We will meet again soon, my dear lady," he said confidently.

Catalina nodded, and took Henry's arm, and allowed herself to be led away. Catalina looked back to see Arthur as she was bustled along. "Will I see my husband at the banquet this evening?" she asked Henry.

"You will, undoubtedly. Whether or not you will have a chance to get to know him any better will be less likely," Henry replied.

"What do you mean, Harry?" Catalina asked.

"You will likely be seated far apart, as is customary. You will most likely be more familiar with my father the king and his ambassadors than you will with your new husband."

"Why is it so?" Catalina demanded.

"I suppose that's just the way it's always been, and always will be," Henry said easily, "Nothing ever changes here. With Arthur to be king, you can count on that."

Catalina frowned. How would she ever grow accustomed to these strange traditions?

"Never fear, my dear sister Catalina," Henry remarked, "Without a doubt, you will more acquainted with Arthur later tonight than you've ever been with anybody!"

Catalina looked at her brother-in-law sharply. In all the excitement of the wedding, she'd nearly forgotten the wedding _night_. Now that Henry had reminded her, it would be all she could think about.

The banquet went as Henry had promised. Arthur sat with his brother and sisters, while Catalina sat with the king and queen, on the king's right hand side, with her duenna and ambassador nearby.

Catalina watched her husband, brother-in-law, and sisters-in-law with utmost curiosity. Arthur interacted cheerfully with his siblings, eating and drinking, talking and laughing merrily. He'd never seemed so bright and happy and healthy to her, in the little time she'd known him. He'd always seemed frail and pale and sickly. Now, he lit up the room.

Little more than a year younger than Arthur was fifteen year old Margaret. Margaret was pretty and had a gentle air. She smiled placidly at her brothers, and whispered secrets to her sister. Catalina wondered if they could ever be friends. Margaret was, apparently, betrothed to the king of Scotland, and would undoubtedly soon be marrying him.

Henry, of course, she already knew. He was, perhaps, the most charming of them all. He cheerfully teased his older brother, conversed with his older sister, and doted on his younger sister. He was bright, energetic, and attracting attention.

Mary was the youngest, at only eleven. She was a true Tudor rose. Pale skin, glowing red hair, grey eyes, and a bright smile. She danced around her brothers, who were clearly devoted to her, and enjoyed companionship with her sister, though she was significantly older. Mary had all of them wrapped around her finger, Catalina could tell.

"Princess Catherine will accompany my son to Ludlow," Catalina heard the king say, and though she didn't know what she was saying, she recognized her English name, and struggled to decipher what he said to her ambassador.

Doña Elvira also seemed to realize that it was her charge that they were discussing, and whispered to the ambassador Alaya, "What is it? What is he saying?"

Alaya turned to Doña Elvira and Catalina and said, in quick Spanish, "The king has decided that her highness will accompany her new husband to Ludlow, a castle in Wales."

"Impossible!" Doña Elvira spat, "Her highness is not to live with her husband for at least a year! It was her mother's dearest wish! The princess is to learn the English ways from the prince's mother before living with his highness as man and wife! Tell the king so!"

Alaya reluctantly gave the king a summary of what Doña Elvira had just told him. King Henry put his cup down with a _thump_ and faced the Spaniards. "Absolutely not. That is not how we do things in England. Princess Catherine is married to Prince Arthur now, and will accompany him. Tonight, their marriage will be made lawful, and Princess Catherine will live with him as his wife. The better to produce heirs, as I'm sure you're aware. You may tell the princess that, and also inform her that there will be no discussion, as my decision has been made."

"Tell Princess Catherine that she will be happy at Ludlow with Arthur," Queen Elizabeth spoke up, "Far happier than she would be here with me."

Alaya repeated the king and queen's words for Doña Elvira and Catalina. "This is unacceptable! Queen Isabella would never agree to this! I must protest. Are we not to be able to keep any of our customs in this strange land?!" the duenna cried in rage.

"Doña Elvira, please," Catalina said softly, hoping to quiet her distressed duenna. Her shrill cries of displeasure were clearly displeasing to the king, who looked as though he were growing angrier by the moment. "Please, tell me what to say to the king, to relieve his anger. I will go, how do I tell him in his language?"

Alaya murmured a few words in Catalina's ear, and then she faced the king. "Your majesty," she said in heavily accented English, "I will go."

Elizabeth of York smiled joyously, and the king brightened up considerably. "Very good, princess. I admire your agreeable temper."

"How can you agree to this, my lady?" Doña Elvira hissed.

"Doña, he is my husband. I will go where he goes," Catalina said firmly. Doña Elvira turned away from her, and would not speak again.

The king raised his cup to the princess. "To the continual alliance of Spain and England!"

Catalina, not understanding a word, nodded and smiled, and tried to sip the bitter English ale without gagging as the king gulped it back.

"Your bride seems to have pleased our father very much," Henry said to Arthur.

Arthur glanced across the room at his beaming father, and smiling Catherine. "Yes, she has, hasn't she? Isn't she wonderful? Beautiful, and kind. How fortunate I am!"

"What is she like, truly, Harry?" Mary asked.

"Everything our brother has said, and more," Henry replied, "Kind, beautiful, learned. Everything a man could want in a wife."

"I wish you great happiness, brother," Margaret said with a smile for Arthur.

"Thank you, sister. I'm sure I will be very happy."

As the girls turned away to continue their conversation, Henry turned to Arthur. "Are you nervous, for the wedding night?" he asked.

"Of course not," Arthur replied, "Men have been doing this for millennia, why should I be any different?"

"I hear it in your voice, brother; you're nervous."

"You are mistaken, Harry. It will be nothing. A formality, and then it will be done."

"You are the one who is mistaken, Arthur. You will not be done with this formality for many, many years."

Arthur frowned at his brother, and turned away to talk to Margaret. Henry grinned. He noticed Catalina looking over at them. He bowed his head and lifted his cup to her. She nodded back. Henry laughed aloud, and returned to his brother and sisters.

Later that night, Catalina went with her duenna and ladies to prepare for the wedding night. "How could you agree to go to Ludlow?" Doña Elvira demanded, "Your mother told you specifically, numerous times, that you were not to live with Prince Arthur as his wife for at least a year!"

"Doña Elvira, it is not realistic! Perhaps in years Arthur is young, but I feel that he is very mature at heart and in mind. Perhaps my mother didn't realize how things are done in England. I must try to accustom myself to their traditions!"

"It is not acceptable!" Doña Elvira exclaimed, "I will discuss it with the ambassador

"But it is done, so please let it go. You are making me nervous, Doña Elvira."

"That is another issue all on it's own!" Doña Elvira stated, "Take this, my lady."

"What is it?"

"Blood," the woman said. Catalina's eyes widened in surprise, and then narrowed in curiosity. "Sheep's blood, my lady. There must be proof of consummation."

Catalina flushed. "I do not think I will need the sheep's blood."

"Just in case, my lady," Doña Elvira said.

A short while later, Catalina was led to the nuptual chamber. There were numerous people there, observing the entrance of the prince and princess. Catalina shrank back a bit, before walking bravely in to face them all.

The bed was blessed, and prayers were said. Catalina and Arthur were given wine, which they sipped appropriately. They then settled beneath the covers on the bed, as the curtains were drawn around them. It was loud for a moment more, before the sounds of people retreating and then, silence.

Catalina lay silently, hearing only the sounds of her own breathing, and Arthur's. She waited for him to make the first move, unwilling and unable to do it herself.

"Are you well this evening, dear wife?" Arthur asked at long last.

"I am well. And you?"

"Well," Arthur said, "Did you enjoy the banquet?"

"It was lovely," Catalina answered.

"Yes," Arthur said.

Another pause dragged on.

"Perhaps-"

"Yes?" Catalina said.

"I fear-"

"Yes, my lord?"

"I fear, perhaps, I am unwell tonight," Arthur said uneasily.

"I hope you are not very ill," Catalina said, just as nervously.

"I should hope not. Indeed. That should not be- opportune," Arthur cleared his throat nervously, "Perhaps we could put off- the act until another night? If my lady can accept this postponement?"

"I should not want to exert your highness, if you are unwell," Catalina replied, and then quickly added, "I am not offended. Some other night, perhaps, when you are feeling better."

"Quite so," Arthur said, hiding the relief in his voice, "Good-night, my lady."

"I pray you rest easy, husband," Catalina said breathlessly. She released the breath she'd been holding in when she heard Arthur turn over. She felt the small vial in her sleeve. Perhaps she did have need of it after all.

* * *

"I hear our Arthur became a man last night," Charles Brandon said cheerfully to Henry the next day.

Henry nodded as he tightened the strings on his tennis racquet. "So I am told."

"I have managed to hear all the gossip from the servants," Charles remarked.

"Since when do you converse with servants, Charles?"

"When I want to hear all of the best news. The servants know everything, you know, Harry."

"And what have they told you about my beloved brother?" Henry asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I have been told that it is safe to say that your brother's marriage has been consummated," Charles said slyly.

"Charles, you need not talk of that!" Henry exclaimed, and got to his feet.

"Why does it upset you so, Henry?" Charles asked.

"Arthur is my brother! I can't speak with you about things like that! It is his business. It is simple-minded to make casual conversation about it."

"It's not his business; it's the entire nation's business. Fear not for your poor brother; save your concern for his bride!"

Henry shook his head and practiced his swing. "I don't want to hear it, Charles."

"The attendants claim to have heard the consummation- right through the door!"

"Charles, that's enough."

"The servants in the laundry admit that the sheets were stained."

"I demand that you will say no more about it!"

"They say the princess stumbled upon getting out of bed, for her legs were so weak-"

Henry lunged at Charles, knocking the stunned boy flat on his back on the ground. Henry grabbed Charles's collar, and lifted him slightly. "I said, that's enough."

Charles frowned in confusion at his friend. "Forgive me, Henry, if I offended you."

Henry glared at him, and then released his hold on Charles's collar, and stood up. "It's just an unacceptable topic of conversation," Henry said, "Uncouth, and barbaric."

"Will you at least give me leave to speak of what happened this morning, when the prince and princess were awakened?"

"If it contains any of your lewd commentary, then you need not bother."

"Not a single unsavoury comment shall escape my lips, I swear to you, your Grace," Charles grinned.

"Carry on, then," Henry said reluctantly.

"The dignitaries nearly scared poor Princess Catherine out of her wits. They went in this morning, and the princess's governess- the shrill Spanish woman- started bellowing at them. The princess nearly died of shame, I'm told. I suppose she did not expect them. A few jokes and comments, and she was further humiliated. She must thank her lucky stars she cannot understand a word they're saying. Your brother openly proclaimed last night before he went to bed that he felt lusty and amorous. This morning, to the delight of the courtiers and distress of his lovely bride, Prince Arthur called for some water, and then announced that he had been in Spain, and that being a husband is thirsty work," Charles couldn't contain a wily grin, "What say you of that, Henry?"

"I think Arthur is a great fool to talk of such a thing with so little care for the princess's feelings," Henry said forcefully, "One would think that my brother had no tact at all. How can he be a good king if he has no sensibility? The people will hate him!"

"You are jealous, your Grace!"

"Jealous?! What reason could I have to be jealous? All I said was that I did not want to hear about the details of my brother's wedding night!"

"You express great concern for Princess Catherine!"

"Yes. We became friends while I was her escort. I feel brotherly affection for her, and desire heartily to ease her assimilation into English society."

"Indeed?"

"Indeed!" Henry swung his racquet back and forth. "Now, are we to play, Charles, or will you insist upon sitting there, gossiping like a girl?"

"You offend my masculinity, your Grace, so of course I must best you at tennis!" Charles bounded to his feet. He bowed to the princesses as he and Henry passed by them. "Princess Margaret," he said, "Princess Mary."

"Mr Brandon," Margaret stated.

"Charles," Mary replied.

Charles gave the girls a wink, and then hurried after their brother. "So, as you freely admit," Charles called, "You met, and rather liked, Princess Catherine."

"I did," Henry said, "What of it?"

"What is she like? Good-looking, obviously, but is she amiable?"

"Exceedingly amiable."

"Too much so?"

"Decidedly not. Can we please go on with our game, Charles?"

Meanwhile, Catalina walked in the garden with a few of her ladies. "Will you go with the Prince to Ludlow, my lady Catalina?" Inez asked.

"Doña Elvira is determined that I shall not. Everyone else seems to be persuaded that I should. My dear chaplain Padre Alessandro insists that I ought to. Alaya is even recommending my compliance, though he still fights for the demands of my mother and duenna," Catalina sighed, "I am simply glad that it is not my decision to make, so I cannot make the wrong one for myself."

"Is the prince kind to you?" Lady Isabelle asked.

"I have not seen him since last night. He has been kept largely occupied. But yes, I believe he is very kind. I shall be extremely happy."

"My lady, are those not the prince's sisters?" Lady Adriana asked eagerly, motioning across the garden.

"I believe they are," Catalina said nervously.

"How fair they are! How elegant!" Lady Gabriela murmured.

"Ladies," Catalina said, "Will you please go back inside, and see how the discussions about where I am to go are progressing?" Catalina couldn't help but notice that Margaret and Mary were not followed by any ladies, and she felt awkward with her throng of nearly a dozen.

Her ladies curtsied, and went away. Now, Margaret and Mary were approaching her. Catalina drew in her breath and smiled softly.

"It is a lovely day, is it not, Princess Catherine?" Mary called cordially, but as it was in English, Catherine did not understand.

The foreign princess's confusion showed on her face. "Mary, have some consideration," Margaret scolded her sister in English, before turning to her sister-in-law and saying, in broken Latin, "Please forgive my sister. She forgets that not all the world speaks English."

"Please, your apology is not necessary," Catalina replied, "As I will have to learn the language, I had best be exposed to it as much as possible."

Margaret nodded, "My sister just commented on the lovely weather. It is not often one will find a day so fine in this late month. Is it so in Spain?"

"Winter in Spain has been known to be unpleasant at times, as it is everywhere, I suppose," Catalina replied.

Mary, who was not yet very good at Latin, stepped forward and took Catalina's hand. "Catherine," she said, "Will you take a turn with us?" Mary made motions with her hands, and smiled warmly.

Margaret laughs. "She asks if you'll walk with us."

"I think I almost understood," Catalina replied, "I would love to. Thank you." She smiled and nodded at Mary.

Mary beamed, with a smile that resembled that of her eldest brother, and linked arms with Catalina.

"Your sisters seem to have taken to Princess Catherine," Charles called to Henry.

"I am not surprised. I suppose they are starving for companionship."

"Do you not wish to join them? Are you not starved for companionship?"

"With you around, Charles? Never!" Henry replied, "Play on!"


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: _Thank you to anyone who read or reviewed the last chapter! I hope you're liking the story :D_

_The name Catherine will be becoming more common later in this story, since 3 of the wives had that name. To avoid confusion, each of the 3 Catherine's will be spelled differently. They will be: Catherine of Aragon, Catharine Howard and Katherine Parr. For those of you who are impatient to see some more of Henry VIII's wives, I think this chapter will help. I just wanna clear up the background of Henry first._

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything having to do with "The Tudors". :)

* * *

**CHAPTER V**

"Princess Catherine will go to Ludlow with my son, and no more is to be said on the matter!" King Henry boomed.

"Your majesty, you must understand the cultural and moral reasoning behind the wishes of my master-" Alaya protested.

"Well you may tell your master that his daughter is no longer in Spain. She is an English princess now, and will be treated as such. And if you do not tell the princess and her meddling company at once of my final decision, then you will tell the Spanish king the news in person, when I have you exiled there!" the king ushered the ambassador out.

"This is an outrage!" Doña Elvira cried, nearly at the same decibel as the infuriated king. "Is that bully so pigheaded that he cannot even show a bit of kindness to his own daughter-in-law in a strange land? Is he so self-righteous, so set in his ways, so obstinate-"

"You forget yourself, Doña Elvira!" Alaya exclaimed, "He is the king, our sovereign."

"He did not even become king through his own god-given right! He stole the throne!"

"Doña Elvira, we are guests in his country! Should he hear you speak like this, you would be banished, or worse!"

"He cannot even understand a word I say!" Doña Elvira shrieked.

"Doña Elvira, please!"

"Why don't you go back to Scotland where you came from, you lying, deceitful sneak! You are not even the ambassador to England, and yet you remain in our midst?! Go; get out! I will find an ambassador, in the name of the king and queen of Spain, who will look after the interests of their most beloved daughter as you have failed to do!"

"May I remind you, Doña Elvira," Alaya said haughtily, "That you are merely a chaperone, a servant, a duenna of Princess Catalina! It is she who must live with the decisions of the king, and I do not see her complaining half as much as you, you insufferable woman!"

Doña Elvira gasped in horror. "This is gone too far! I am her duenna! She does not complain due to how she was raised, by the most excellent Isabella of Castile. It was the dearest wish of that great queen that her daughter-"

"Yes, yes, yes! Not live with her husband but as a sister for a year at least," Alaya said, "But it is not to be! If her majesty were here, she would not make half the fuss you are!"

"You unimaginable fiend!"

"And you forget, my lady, that Princess Catalina has already been a wife to the prince, so there is no need for any more formality! The princess goes with her husband to Ludlow, to Wales, and to wherever else the king sees fit to send her, and with whom! Let that be the end of it!" Alaya bustled out of the room, leaving Doña Elvira distressed and furious in his wake.

Catalina, who had been watching, but unable to stop their arguing, stepped forward now. "Doña," she said.

"Not a word, Infanta. Not a word to me, please. You may be the grand Princess of Wales, but I am your duenna, your chaperone, your guardian trusted by your wonderful mother. If you rebuke my opinions, you rebuke those of your mother as well! You shall be very unhappy at Ludlow, my lady; I am sure of it. As punishment, God will not let you be happy at Ludlow!" Doña Elvira hurried out of the room before she dared go any further.

Maria squeezed Catalina's hand. "Fear not, my lady," she said with a small smile, "Despite Doña Elvira's beliefs, she is hardly God's prophet on earth. Do not worry about her misguided attempt at revenge."

"I do not like to displease her," Catalina said softly, "And if there was any way to make everyone happy, I would gladly do so. However, as it is not possible, I will do what I think my mother would do, and I will go where my husband goes."

* * *

In his chambers, King Henry threw back a draught of ale and sighed. "Why in God's name did I set up a marriage with Spaniards?" he demanded.

"Why else?" his mother, Margaret Beaufort, asked as she filled his cup. "Political connections. The wealth of her dowry. You know why you did it, Henry. All that's left is to deal with the repercussions."

"I could have made a connection with a country not so- difficult."

"Which country?"

"Oh, I don't know," the king shrugged, "Germany."

Margaret scoffed. "That would be more trouble than it's worth. There is no need for an alliance with them, nor would the dowry be as great. There's nothing altogether wrong with Spain, nor the princess. It's the damnable customs, and the annoying people who try to enforce their own rules in our country. Do not let them get away with it, Henry."

"Of course not. Why should I? I have no mind to surrender to a little princess, my son's wife, within my own borders!"

Margaret nodded approvingly. "Good. Now what of your daughter's marriage to James of Scotland?"

"Yes, what of that?" King Henry mused.

"You settled the truce with the Scots years ago. All you need to do is marry Margaret to their king to settle the matter once and for all," his mother urged.

"I know, I know. It will be done."

"Well, what's taking so long?"

"I'm looking for some insurance," Henry stated.

"What do you mean?"

"I have some of my most trusted advisors, and James has some too, working on another treaty; a treaty of perpetual peace."

Margaret Beaufort raised her eyebrows. "Oh, Henry."

"You have not even heard of the plan; how can you disapprove?"

"Treaties of perpetual peace? The idea is so outrageous! It could never work!"

"It will be the first thing of it's kind," Henry began.

"And the last, due to it's failure, undoubtedly," Margaret remarked, "Henry, everlasting and universal peace is unreaslitic. Ideal, but not realistic! There will always be wars, and there will always be kings to initiate wars. No idealistic treaty will ever change that."

"Is it not worth looking into?" the king asked.

"Don't waste your time on such fruitless endeavors. Why should you worry about the Scots now, when you have the rest of the world to be concerned about?"

* * *

Shortly before Yuletide, Arthur and Catalina went to Ludlow. Doña Elvira was less than pleased about the affair, but she now sat in stony silence, having given up on loud opposition.

"I think we shall be comfortable in Wales, my dear love," Arthur smiled at Catalina, "I have many fond memories there, from when I spent time there as a child."

"I look forward to seeing a place you loved as a child," Catalina replied.

"I look forward to showing you, Catherine," Arthur replied. He squeezed her hand affectionately, and then returned his gaze out the window.

_Catherine_. She sighed. How she missed the sound of her own name. Everyone called her Catherine now, except for her ladies and duenna, but it could not be long before they did as well.

To add to her difficulties, her relationship with her husband was still chaste.

Certainly, Arthur had visited her bed, but not in the way that people supposed. They talked together quietly throughout the night, becoming comfortable with each other before even considering moving to the next step. Of course, this next step was never a topic of conversation. Arthur was not eager to discuss the possibility, and Catalina didn't bring it up.

Doña Elvira need not have feared that Queen Isabella's wishes were being cast aside. Catalina was, albeit secretly, living with her husband as brother and sister. Catalina was no longer nervous about the act, nor was she eagerly anticipating it. She simply wondered when, if ever, it would actually happen.

* * *

"No, Cathy," Isabel Leigh snapped, "That's _my_ necklace, you cannot have it!"

"It is mine," Cathy insisted, "I will have what is mine!"

Isabel snatched the necklace. "I am the eldest, and I am telling you, it is mine!"

"Girls, you must not fight!" Their mother snatched the jewelry in question and set it down on a nearby table. "If you cannot agree on whose it is, then neither of you shall have it."

"It is mine," Cathy grumbled.

"Catharine, I will have no more of your saucy remarks. You are eight years of age, and far too old to be acting so childish! As it is, your uncle and aunt is coming to bid us farewell before their journey. I will not have them remember you as two heedless hooligans!"

Cathy frowned at her older sister, and flipped her hair.

"Joyce," the patriarch of the family strode into the room. "They are here. Now, come and greet them. The girls must come down at once as well. The others are already in the yard."

"Must I meet them?" his wife asked him quietly.

"She is my own sister, my dear."

"It is not her I dislike," she answered, "It is _him._"

Her husband smiled. "Well, they are away to Austria, and this will be the last we see of them, perhaps for years. It will not hurt you to meet with them once more."

"Austria," Joyce sighed, "I wish I were to go to Austria for a time! Those girls of his will be picking up airs as sure as I'm alive! Isn't an English education enough for them?"

"Do not be hasty to judge. Your own little girls are not without their faults." He glanced at the two girls in the room, glaring at each other. Isabel was only his step-daughter, and not as dear to him as Catharine, but as Isabel was his wife's daughter, she was his.

"Brother, will you not come and welcome us?" a voice called from the lower level.

"We shall be with you directly!" Edmund Howard answered. He reached out and held his wife's hand. "Never fear, my dear. As long as I am by your side, my brother-in-law cannot hurt you."

"Hurry up girls," Joyce Howard called to Catharine and Isabel, and then allowed herself to be escorted downstairs by her husband. "But even you must admit, Edmund," she said quietly, so as not to be heard by their guests or by the daughters who followed closely behind them, "Thomas does more harm than good."

"He is completely harmless," Edmund replied, "Nothing to concern yourself over." They walked into the room where the family was congregated. "Thomas! Elizabeth!" Edmund greeted them warmly.

"You look well, Edmund. As do you, Joyce, and of course all of the children," his sister Elizabeth said.

"Indeed, all," her husband spoke up, "How do you keep track of all ten, Edmund? I have trouble with my three."

"I'm sure your children cannot give you too much concern. Hello Mary, Anne, George. It has been a while, to be sure, but you do not forget your own uncle, do you?"

"Of course not, Uncle," Mary said, and she along with Anne curtsied.

"What lovely young ladies your girls have become," Joyce said.

"Indeed they have, if I may say so myself," Thomas beamed, "There are few girls with as fine reputations as the Boleyn girls."

The five Howard sisters heard their uncle's proud remarks, and frowned. Surely they were as fine- if not more fine- than their cousins. Their father was Lord Edmund Howard, though he was only a step-father to three of the girls; Isabel, Margaret and Joyce. They were as proud of him as his own daughters, Mary and Catharine, were. He was the younger son of the Duke of Norfolk, higher than the position of the Boleyns! Indeed, who were the Boleyns? Thomas Boleyn's father was Sir William Boleyn, but besides that, what titles did they have? The Howard girls felt with a great deal of confidence that they could hold their heads up high before their simpler cousins.

"Run along, children," Elizabeth Boleyn ushered the children towards the door, "Let the adults have a moment of peace! It is such a beautiful day; too lovely for you all to remain indoors!"

George Boleyn followed his male cousins; John, Ralph, George, Henry and Charles into the yard, and they all ran off into the gardens at once. Mary motioned to Anne to follow, and the girls went out with their female cousins and settled themselves at the base of a tree for shade and comfort.

"So, cousins," Isabel, being the eldest among them, felt it her duty to begin the conversation, "Are you excited to be going to Austria?"

"If I am to speak plainly," Mary said, "I must admit, I would much rather stay in England. It is my home, and I am more familliar with it. I am not extremely eager to see new places."

"How I should wish to be in your place!" Margaret said, "To see the Austrian court would be thrilling to say the very least!"

"Anne, are you as worried as your sister Mary?" Mary Howard asked.

Anne had been absently picking at the grass, and now looked up at her cousin. "What do I have to be worried about?"

"Going to a strange land, among different people and customs," Mary Howard replied.

"It is natural to be a little nervous," Isabel said.

"I am not," Anne answered, raising her eyebrows slightly.

"You are not nervous at all?" Joyce demanded.

"No," Anne said, "New people and places never frighten me. It is an opportunity that I appreciate entirely. I cannot imagine being anything besides optimistic."

"My sister is far more brave than I," Mary Boleyn laughed, "I sometimes believe she fears nothing. I do think she'd even laugh in the face of death."

"Do not be dramatic, Mary," Anne chided gently.

"Her courage seems to be bordering on conceit," Margaret remarked.

Anne's dark eyes narrowed slightly. "As your opinion seems to be bordering on self-righteousness."

The girls fell silent for a moment, unsure of how to continue. Margaret was offended, and let her expression tell her cousins so. Catharine managed to break the silence, by saying, "You will not forget your poor cousins here in England, will you? We will not have as much amusement here, I'm sure, and will think of you often."

"How could we ever forget you, Cathy, or any of you?" Mary replied, "Isn't that right, Anne?"

Anne got to her feet and brushed off her gown. "I'm sure we could not forget you. We will be back soon as it is, unless Papa is sent on another assignment. But let's not talk of that now. I'm sick of talking of Austria, and travelling. Let's all of us take a turn about the yard. It will do us good."

Her Howard cousins and her sister looked up at her, a couple of them disdainfully, the others unsure.

"Come on," Anne urged, "Don't be so incorrigible! Would not some activity lighten the mood? Margaret, I cannot have insulted you so terribly that you've forgotten how to walk! Come, we shall walk together, and the others will follow if they will."

When Margaret did not get up, Cathy leapt to her feet. "I will walk with you, Anne."

"She asked me, Cathy," Margaret said crossly, and got to her feet to follow her cousin and her sister.

"Come, don't quarrel!" Anne led the way boldly, and they headed in the direction the boys had taken, undoubtledly to join in on their games.

The others got to their feet to follow. "Cunning little devil, isn't she?" Isabel said to Mary Boleyn.

Mary laughed. "That is Anne. Where she goes, people are bound to follow. You can hate her one minute, but the next you will be running to catch up with her again."

Anne strode up to the boys, and demanded to be made a part of their games, though she was turned down at once. Cathy danced along beside her, and begged the boys to relent.

"Is it a blessing or a curse to be the elder sister of someone like her?" Joyce asked with a smirk.

Mary Boleyn smiled. "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure yet."


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: _Bonjour my readers!_

_Please note, that from here on, Catalina will be referred to as Catherine, due to her ongoing assimilation into English society._

_This is a bit more Catherine-Arthur kinda stuff, and just dealing with the Tudor family in general. Never fear, though; the next chapter will shake everything up, and you'll see another of the wives._

**Disclaimer:** I own no rights to the show or the characters or any plots I may use. When I mess up the historical dates (which I will be doing more of now...) it will be for good reason.

* * *

**CHAPTER VI**

"How does your dear brother fare at Ludlow?" Charles Brandon asked Henry casually one day.

"I hardly know myself," Henry replied in an off-handed way, studying the chess board, "I hear little from him."

"Do you know how he is managing the Welsh?" Charles asked.

"Just fine, I presume, or else we'd surely hear of it. As prince of Wales, I should hope he can manage the Welsh!"

"And how is his fine lady, Princess Catherine?"

"Adjusting, I hear. They get along very well. There's been some fuss, however, about her meddling in political affairs," Henry remarked.

"Is that so? In what way?"

"Apparently she sits in on his meetings with advisors and _advises_ Arthur."

"In other words, she tells him what to do."

"That is the impression I've got," Henry shrugged.

Charles laughed aloud. "Poor Arthur! Imagine, letting your wife rule over you like that; especially when you're next in line to the throne!"

"Apparently he was ill, and Catherine was helping," Henry stated, "As it is, look at who her parents are. Isabella and Ferdinand are strong political figures. Catherine must see herself as their representative in England."

Charles laughed again. "And what did his majesty have to say about her interference?"

"He was not as displeased as Lady Margaret Beaufort was," Henry remarked, "She was quite put out. Ranted and raved for days on the matter, until my lord father sent word to Ludlow, ordering Catherine to leave political matters to her husband!"

"Women!" Charle exclaimed, "What a power they have over us! Your grandmother over your father, your sister-in-law over your brother. We seem to be a doomed sex, Harry."

"I'm sure our wives won't give us too much trouble," Henry said.

"We can only pray," Charles shook his head. He then asked, "Have they started production of an heir yet?"

"Charles!" Henry exclaimed.

"It's a perfectly natural inquiry," Charles argued.

"They have not yet been married six months!"

"It is never too early. I have heard of it happening straight away!"

"What is the nature of your fascination with my brother's affairs?" Henry demanded.

"Only curiousity," Charles said, "You know, Harry, that you are second in line to the throne."

"What of it?" Henry snapped.

"Should they not produce an heir, your chances of becoming king significantly improve," Charles said carefully.

"Your musings approach treason," Henry said with a raise of his eyebrows, "I wish my brother and his wife a long and happy life together, and many heirs."

"So you are content to join the clergy?"

"If my father wishes it," Henry said mechanically.

"And take a vow of celibacy?" Charles' eyes twinkled playfully.

Henry couldn't contain a grin. "What has happened to you, Charles, to make you so foul and corrupted?"

"Perhaps it is the time spent with you," Charles joked.

"Oh, undoubtedly. Blame me for your disturbed mind!"

"I intend to," Charles said.

* * *

"Husband, I must admit, I am confused," Catherine said, her voice puzzled and thick with her Spanish accent, "I was under the impression that my assistance to you was welcome."

"My dear, I am always grateful for your support," Arthur said uneasily, "But my father feels, since I am to be king, I need to learn how to manage the kingdom on my own. It will not do to have my wife helping me along."

"But my help was not offensive to you before," Catherine said, "Why should it be now? Your father, he does not know what I do to help you when you are so weak."

"I am not weak, Catherine," Arthur said firmly, "I was ill and you helped me, and I thank you, but now it is no longer appropriate for you to interfere in my affairs."

"Interfere?" Catherine exclaimed, "How do I interfere? I am your wife; it is my duty to help you rule this kingdom. That is what I was sent here from Spain, from my parents, to do. That is what I have been trained to do!"

"Perhaps that is what the Spanish do, but you seem to forget that you are in England!" Arthur snapped, "And you must adhere to our customs. I will hear no more of this, and you are to stay out of my concerns!"

Catherine, shocked by her usually meek husband's sudden angry outburst, sat down upon a chair. She fought tears; she swore to herself on the crossing from Spain that the English would never see her cry. She had to be strong, for her mother and father, and for Spain.

Arthur was immediately remorseful for lashing out against Catherine. He sat on the chair beside her, and timidly touched her arm. "Catherine, forgive me. My love, forgive my harsh words. You did not deserve them."

"I am just so confused," Catherine said mournfully, "I was deceived in my position as your wife. What am I to do, if not to help you?"

"A queen's job is to support her husband without getting involved, and to bear heirs," Arthur said slowly.

Catherine put her hand on his. "Husband, how am I to bear you heirs if you only come to my bed to converse with me on your dreams, and the future?"

Arthur pushed her hand away and got to his feet. "Catherine- I do not know what to say. I am sorry that you are dissatisfied with our relations thus far."

"I am not!" Catherine said quickly, standing at his side, "Arthur, I love our conversations, I truly do. But you talk of producing children! To do this, more is necessary."

Arthur paused. "I thought, perhaps, we could build a relationship, and a sort of respect, before we are truly man and wife."

"I believe I understand," Catherine said slowly.

Arthur kissed Catherine's head fondly. "Thank you, sweetheart. When I am king, you may advise me in all that you wish."

"And you will take my advice?"

"That all depends, doesn't it," Arthur smiled, "On if I like what I hear!"

* * *

"Perhaps Ludlow isn't the right place for Arthur," Queen Elizabeth said anxiously one evening.

"What are you going on about?" Lady Margaret Beaufort sighed.

"Yes, what do you mean, love?" King Henry asked.

"I have received news that he is quite ill. This letter informs me that he is at times so weak, that he is unable to get out of bed."

"The Prince is not the most stalwart of boys," Lady Margaret stated, "But he has survived thus far; there is no reason that he ought not continue to do so."

"I do think you are worrying yourself unneccessarily," King Henry added, "Think of the child, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth set a hand on her bulging stomach. "Can I not think of my living children, as well as my unborn?"

"There is no reason to worry about Arthur," Lady Margaret snapped, "If he were truly ill, surely we'd have news of it."

Elizabeth ignored her mother-in-law and said beseechingly to her husband, "I only wish you would visit him, Henry; or send Harry to him. I only want to hear first-hand that our boy is well. Can you not satisfy me thus?"

King Henry frowned as he thought over her request.

"It is an unnecessary waste of time and expense," Lady Margaret exclaimed, "Henry, surely you are not planning to cater to such a foolhardy whim?"

Henry glanced first at his wife, and then his mother. "Indeed," he said uneasily, "There is no reason to be so concerned. Arthur will remain at Ludlow and we will remain here. Elizabeth, it is my wish that you do not worry yourself unnecessarily. Keep in mind what a blessing another healthy child would be."

Elizabeth bowed her head. "Of course, my lord." She looked up briefly at her mother-in-law, who raised her chin triumphantly. It made Elizabeth's heart ache to see the controlling effect the woman had on the king. The queen stood, with difficulty. "If you will excuse me, I think I will go rest now."

"That is the place for you," Lady Margaret said firmly.

It took all of Elizabeth's restraint to keep from glaring at the other woman.

"Indeed," the king said, "Surely you will feel better after resting for awhile." He barely looked up from the letter in his hand.

Queen Elizabeth nodded shortly, and then left the room.

Lady Margaret allowed an exasperated sigh to escape her lips. Her son glanced up at her. "Is something troubling you?" he asked.

"It is only the queen," his mother answered, "Surely she doesn't have to be so- vexing."

"What has she done to bother you?" King Henry demanded.

"The relentless worrying and restlessness. Can you not do anything to control it?"

"May I remind you that Elizabeth has always been a good, kind, faithful wife to me, a doting mother, and a beloved queen to the nation. In addition, she has never done anything to interfere with you. You ought to count your blessings at having such a fine woman as your daughter-in-law and, more importantly, as your queen," the king said, putting down his letter and giving his mother a direct, stern look.

"Of course, you have reason to be pleased with her," Lady Margaret said quickly, "Do not let me dissuade you from appreciating your wife, Henry. It is only that she aggravates me so."

"Well, there is no logical reason for it that I can see, and until you manage to think of one, I would appreciate the quiet, so that I can concentrate. Thank you, madam!"

Lady Margaret was outraged at being so completely put in her place, but she wisely kept her silence. Her son was so rarely as defensive as this. As usual, Lady Margaret had to learn not to interfere where Queen Elizabeth was involved.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note__: Welcome back to "The Bachelor". I've been crazy busy, what with school starting up again (I can't believe it's already October!!). Now, this chapter is kind of a long one, but I had so much tumultuous, story-altering stuff to cram in. Are you excited? I hope so. This is chapter 7, and thanks to anyone who has stuck around this long. :D. Since this is a bit of a longer chapter, I'm hoping for many many reviews. It would really make me exceedingly happy._

_Now, I think there's one word that could be considered a swear word, [the "w" word] and sadly it will become a bit more common in this story, after all this is a Tudor fanfic._

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any rights to "The Tudors" or any of the characters or plots used in the show. I simply pay hommage to a great series.

* * *

**CHAPTER VII**

Catherine kneeled on the floor, crushing her rosary nervously between her fingers. Her breath was quick as she repeated ancient prayers in Latin. She looked up at the idols before her, and added a line into her prayer: "Please God," she whispered tersely, "Spare the life of my husband!"

Her ladies and duenna were kneeling behind her, also praying for the life of the prince. It was the early hours of the morning, and they had been long at prayer. Their muscles were stiff, their knees and backs were sore. They wanted nothing more than to go to bed, but Catherine would not hear of it. Her own discomfort was a sign of her devotion, and she hoped God would see this and be merciful on her behalf.

For weeks Arthur lain ill in bed, unable to stir. Catherine visited him often, holding his hand while he writhed in pain. She bathed his sweating forehead with a cool cloth, and fed him when he was unable to lift the food himself. She asked the doctors if the king and queen would come to visit their son, and was told that there was no plan to do so. Catherine watched the boy mournfully, and knew that were she in his position, she would want nothing more than her parents beside her.

She heard the door behind her open, but did not turn to look when her ladies did. "My lady," Doña Elvira said softly. Her voice was never gentle, and Catherine's heart sank to hear it so now. "It is Padre Alessandro."

Catherine didn't turn to look. "Will he join us in prayer, for the health of his highness?"

There were footsteps, and Catherine soon felt the hand of her chaplain upon her shoulder. "I believe we must now pray for the repose of his soul," he said softly.

Catherine slowly raised her head to look up at him. "Then he has-" she breathed.

"Yes, my lady," Padre Alessandro said quietly, "The prince of Wales has died."

Catherine turned her head back to the image of her god before her, and her rosary slipped from her fingers to the ground. "I will go to see the body of my husband first," she said, her voice trembling, "To convince my unbelieving heart of his demise. Then, padre, I will pray for his immortal soul."

With her ladies' assistance, Catherine got to her feet. Maria lifted the rosary from the ground, and pressed it into her mistress's hand. Catherine moved out of the chapel and through the dark halls of the palace, which were all silent and still. Only the quick movement of feet and the shaky breath of the princess were audible.

The physician was just leaving the sick room as Catherine approached. He bowed to her, and she looked at him with eyes sad, and full of heartbreak. "Tell me, was he in pain?" she asked quickly.

"His highness's suffering came quickly to an end, not an hour ago. I believe he was aware of little, and felt not much pain."

Catherine nodded gently. "I will see him now," she said firmly, and moved past the physician.

Arthur was lying, still and alone, on the same bed that Catherine had seen him on for the past few weeks. His face was no longer one of suffering, but of peaceful rest and relief. Catherine knelt beside his bed, and choked out a sob at the dead body of her husband; the dear friend she'd grown to love and appreciate in these few months at Ludlow. She reached out and brushed the hair from his brow, his skin soft, and still somehow slightly warm to the touch. "My love," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks, "I ache to think of the life we might have had together. How quickly it was taken away." She slipped the rosary she was holding into his hand. "I will never forget you, kind husband. The cruelty with which you are taken away from me- I cannot bear it!" She clasped her hands, and cried quietly over the silent figure before her, "You would have made a wonderful king, and I would have been overjoyed to be your queen. Oh Arthur, what will become of England without you?"

* * *

The royal family sat together; a rare occurance in this family. The king and queen were there, as was Lady Margaret Beaufort. Henry and both of his sisters were at home, and watched their parents with anxious silence.

King Henry turned to the duke of Buckingham. "Is the princess carrying Arthur's child?" he demanded.

"She declares that he is not, your majesty," Buckingham replied, "What is more, my lord, is that she claims that she did not lie with him as his wife."

"What nonsense is this?" Margaret Beaufort exclaimed.

"Indeed, my lady, she insists that she was wife to Prince Arthur in name only, and that she could not possibly be carrying an heir."

"What is the motive behind this?" King Henry frowned, "What does she mean by this declaration?"

"Perhaps she wishes to assure you without a doubt that she is not carrying an heir," Queen Elizabeth suggested.

"Or, more realistically," her mother-in-law spoke up, "It is to demonstrate her availability for another marriage."

The king turned and raised his eyebrows at his mother. "Another marriage?"

"She clearly desires to be queen. She was brought up to believe that this was her right. How else is she to become queen but by marrying the new Prince of Wales?"

King Henry turned to look at his living son. "Henry?" he mused.

"It makes sense," Lady Margaret insisted, "She would become queen as your agreement with King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella promises. You get to keep her dowry, and relations with Spain, with little trouble or inconvenience to anyone."

"But what if she does not tell the truth?" King Henry demanded, "What if she is not a virgin?"

"I suggest we wait a few months. Nine or ten, to be exact. If a child is not produced in that time, we can proceed."

"Listen to what you're saying," Elizabeth spoke up, "There are moral and ethical issues that need to be taken into account. Can canon law even allow this?"

"All that is really needed is a papal dispensation, and Henry could get that easily. It has been done before," Lady Margaret argued.

"Let us wait, as you have suggested," King Henry said, "If no child appears, I will consider a marriage between Princess Catherine and Harry." He glanced at Henry, who sat watching the events play out. "In any case, if she is carrying Arthur's son, Harry can go into the church as we planned, and there will be no need for Catherine to remarry."

Henry frowned. He'd thought that it was a sure thing that he'd be Prince of Wales. Nothing frightened or thrilled him more. Now, at last, he was to be the most important son, no longer overshadowed by Arthur. He was not destined- or doomed- to serve in the Church. Someday, he would have all of the power he could ever want. But suddenly there was the threat of a son from Catherine. He dreaded nothing more than a son from Catherine.

His sister Mary saw him frowning at their parents' words. "Do not worry, Harry," she said, "I am certain that you will be king." She smiled and squeezed his hand. "Henry the Eighth," she said wonderinlgly, "England will be lucky to have a king like you."

* * *

Sir John Seymour hurried into home, and found his wife in her chambers. "Margery," he said urgently, "What do you think? The Prince of Wales has died!"

His wife Lady Margery crossed her heart quickly. "Good Lord. What will they do now?"

"They wait to see if the princess of Wales is carrying his son. If she is not, then the second son, Henry, is to be named the heir to the throne!"

"What a revelation!" she exclaimed.

Their two eldest daughters, Jane and Elizabeth, were sitting in the room adjacent to their mother's quarters, and looked at each other with wide eyes. "Do you hear that, Elizabeth?" Jane whispered, "Prince Arthur is not to be king after all."

"Oh, I hope the princess is not with child," Elizabeth said, "What a handsome king Henry would make!"

"I cannot help but feel sorry for Princess Catherine," Jane said, "What will happen to her, do you think?"

"She's on her way to London at this moment. I suppose they'll send her back to Spain soon," Elizabeth mused, "Think of this, Jane! Now there must be a new princess of Wales!"

"It does not really affect us," Jane said, "Not only are we far from court, but we are commoners. We are not educated. Neither of us can do more than write our own names. No one would ever think to train a commoner to be queen. In fact, we have less hope of being queen than anyone has. They'll pick a princess for him, from France or the like.

"It is a shame," Elizabeth sighed, "For we, two Englishwomen through and through, have more right to be queen than than any foreign ladies do. What would a Frenchwoman do in the court of England? Bring in all of her wild notions and extravagent French ideas. I suppose England had a lucky escape. Our court was very nearly run by a Spaniard!"

"I heard the Princess of Wales was being assimilated quite completely into English society. Perhaps her ideas would not be so outlandish. But I do agree that the court could be in better hands than those of the French!" Jane and Elizabeth giggled to themselves.

Their elder brothers, John, Edward and Thomas entered the room. "Just what are you two doing?" Edward asked, flicking Jane's blonde hair and tugging Elizabeth's auburn locks.

"Just planning our ascension to the throne," Elizabeth laughed.

"You and your treasonous thoughts," John joked.

"Did you hear about Prince Arthur?" Jane asked.

"We did," Thomas replied, "It's a shame, that. But he was so frail, he could not have had the stamina to be king."

"And so you girls are planning on being the next princess of Wales?" Edward guessed with a wink.

"If we can possibly manage it," Jane smiled.

"Well, it cannot be Elizabeth, for she is younger. It will have to be Jane; I think she is sweet enough to woo the prince," Thomas stated.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence," Jane smiled, "If I am ever queen, I will gladly take you with me as my advisor."

"I will hold you to that promise, sister," Thomas grinned.

"Enough of these games," Elizabeth said, "The closest we'll get to the throne is if we becomes ladies-in-waiting to the queen, which Papa hopes we shall."

"You could be the king's mistresses; an admirable position for a lady of limited circumstances," Edward stated.

"Thank you, no," Jane said, "I should hope to come by my position in life a bit more honestly than that."

"Being whore to a king is not my idea of an honourable trade," Elizabeth added.

"Not even to a king like Henry the Eighth, as he's to become?" John asked.

"Certainly not," Jane laughed.

"Unless the option is put to us quite convincingly," Elizabeth joked.

"Well, if not you, then someone else," John shrugged.

"Keep dreaming, ladies," Thomas laughed.

* * *

In late December of that year, the queen was put into confinement, to spend the next few weeks waiting in her dark chambers for the arrival of her baby. In early February, Elizabeth of York was at the end of her confinement for her latest pregnancy, and the king was informed that she was in labour. King Henry haunted the chamber where she lay, standing tirelessly by the door, praying for a son to be born, to be heir in the event that anything should happen to his only living son.

Hours later, the king was told that his wife had delivered a baby girl.

King Henry was surprised, and slightly disappointed. He tried to remind himself that all was not lost; he still had his son, his namesake, Henry.

"Is the queen in good health?" the king asked the surgeon.

"The queen has survived the birth," the physician said slowly, and then added reluctantly, "But I do not expect the baby princess to live very long."

"It cannot be so!" the king exclaimed, "Are you sure?"

"I'm afraid so. It cannot be more than a few hours," he replied.

Henry went in to see Elizabeth, who held out her hands to him lovingly. "I'm sorry, my lord," she said weakly, "I wish I could give you another son."

"Do not be upset, my love," he said, taking her delicate hands gently, "I have a strong, healthy son from you, and I'm sure more children will follow. For now, you have given me a daughter, who I shall love as much as my others. You have done very well."

"I'd like to name her Katherine," Elizabeth said, "I think she will do you proud, Henry."

"Of course, Elizabeth, of course," her husband said soothingly, "Rest now. There will be more time for this discourse later."

"Yes, I am tired. We will have another son, Henry, soon," Elizabeth said drowsily as she went to sleep.

The baby princess Katherine did not live to see the next day. Her brother and sisters mourned her passing briefly, and then were consumed with worry for their most beloved mother. The king stood by his wife, giving her all that she could want as infection began to spread within her. The good queen Elizabeth, beloved and respected by all, died nine days after the birth of her baby daughter, on her thirty-seventh birthday.

* * *

Catherine was informed of her mother-in-law's death a few days after it's occurance. Catherine had been sent to live in Durham House, a mansion in London. It was preferable to Ludlow, as it was much brighter than the gloomy moors, and didn't contain any unpleasant memories.

Catherine and her Spanish servants, her English ones having left her service, lived quietly and inexpensively. Catherine waited to be told what was to become of her.

It was not an altogether unpleasant life. In these few months after Arthur's death, her mother-in-law had visited her often, and they spoke with joy and hope for the birth of Elizabeth's child. The princesses Mary and Margaret had visited often as well, and Harry had come on several occasions. Catherine was given a puppy by the royal children, to keep her company.

At the same time however, it was a dull and uneventful life. As Catherine was in mourning, her duenna made sure that all invitations were refused. Catherine knew no one in England, and so her visitors were limited.

And now, to add to all of the miseries in Catherine's life, Queen Elizabeth was dead. It broke Catherine's heart to know that the sweet, gracious queen was gone from this life. Catherine had seen so much of her in Arthur, and felt close to him whenever his mother was near. Now, the two who were kindest to her, were both gone. Despite the visits from the royal children, Catherine felt alone.

On a chilly February morning, as Catherine was praying dutifully, Doña Elvira entered. "His majesty is here to see you," she said in Spanish. Unlike the ladies-in-waiting and Catherine herself, the duenna had not learned a bit of the English language quickly or easily. Though she tried her best to learn, Doña Elvira was a proud Spaniard through and through. While Catherine had not mastered the language completely, she felt that she could now at least somewhat communicate.

Catherine bowed her head, crossed herself, and then stood as her father-in-law entered. "Your majesty," she said in her accented English, and slipped into a deep curtsy.

King Henry bowed his head. "I have come on a matter of business," he said, his deep voice fearsome and bold.

"If there is anything I can do for your majesty, of course I am happy to oblige," Catherine replied.

"I come to see for myself if you are carrying the child of the late prince of Wales," the king declared.

Catherine was startled by the king's announcement. "Your majesty," she stammered, "Surely you have been informed that this is simply not possible."

"I have received various reports."

Catherine stared. "I-" she said, "I do not understand."

"Spain's ambassador to England, Don Rodrigo Gonzales de Puebla, has been very helpful in organizing witnesses," the king replied.

"Witnesses?" Catherine exclaimed. She looked at Don Rodrigo, who stood behind the king. "Witnesses to what?"

The king did not reply to her question, but said instead, "I feel obligated to inform you, madam, that if you were in fact wife to Arthur more than simply in name, that not only is marriage to my son Henry out of the question," to this, Catherine reacted with shock, "But any other marriage will be unheard of. Do you have anything you'd like to impart about this matter before my departure?"

"Only this, your majesty; that I swear on all that is holy, the marriage between the prince and I was not consummated."

King Henry bowed quickly, and then turned to leave the room.

"Your majesty?" Catherine called.

The king turned back to look at her.

"I have only a question to ask about my expenses," she said gently, but without fear, "I worry that my allowance will not suffice, and ask if perhaps, I could have something from my dowry, or something to sell?"

"Certainly not," the king said, "Your allowance will have to suffice. The dowry will not be touched." He bowed again, and left the room.

Catherine stood silent for a moment, and then looked up, her dark eyes wide and blazing. Her growing desperation about money matters could wait, for now she had more important matter to concern her. "Don Rodrigo!" she called.

The ambassador stopped on his way out, turned, and bowed. "My lady?" he said.

Catherine walked towards him. "What witnesses did you find, and what action did they witness?"

"My lady, I bear you no ill will, and speak only of what I am informed."

"And of what are you informed?" Catherine demanded.

"It seems your confessor, Padre Alessandro, has declared that the marriage between yourself and the prince was consummated; that in fact, the prince sought your bed on numerous occasions."

Catherine gaped at the man. She gasped and said, "A bold-faced lie! How could my own confessor say such a thing against me?"

"He has done more than that. He has written to King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella, warning them that your virginity is not intact, and the pope will not allow any marriage to follow."

Catherine brought one trembling hand first to her mouth, and then to her heart. Her breath came quickly, and she was unable to control it.

Doña Elvira bounded from across the room, and threw herself before Catherine, as though shielding her from an attack. "This is an outrage!" she cried, "Don Rodrigo, you will write at once to the king and queen of Spain, and retract all of Alessandro's words!"

"Of course, I will do so at once," Don Rodrigo promised.

"And the Infanta demands an apology from Padre Alessandro, and requests that he is sent away from here at once!"

"What is his motive?" Catherine whispered, "What can he mean by doing this?"

"He is a horrible, misguided man; certainly not a true servant of God!" Doña Elvira hissed, "Send him away, as soon as possible!"

"I will do everything in my power to rectify the situation," Don Rodrigo said coolly, "If all goes well, hopefully another marriage can be arranged for Princess Catherine. Indeed, I have heard that the king himself considers a marriage to her to be not objectionable to him."

"What- marry her himself?!" Doña Elvira shrieked, "Impossible!"

"It is not practical," Catherine said softly.

"It is unacceptable! He is thirty years her senior! His poor wife is barely cold in her grave! Any children my lady would have would be heirs after Prince Henry. No, her wonderful mother Isabella would never accept this," Doña Elvira snapped.

"Of course not," Don Rodrigo replied, "But it is always a possibility."

"What about the prince? Why is she not betrothed to him?"

"Again, my lady, a possibility."

"Now that it is certain that the princess is not with child, will Prince Henry be named the Prince of Wales?"

"Without a doubt, my lady," Don Rodrigo answered.

Sure enough, there was soon a great ceremony to name Henry the new prince of Wales. Catherine, clad in complete black, attended. Harry looked young, and alone, but brave. "What a fine king he will make," Catherine murmured, but, being alone, she had no one to say it to but herself.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: _This was a fun chapter for me to write. It includes some cute interaction for one of my favourite Tudor couplings, as well as an introduction to two of my favourite Tudor characters! I hope you enjoy it :)_

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

**CHAPTER VIII**

Margaret Tudor stepped out of the palace, nervously clasping her hands. She looked warily at the great retinue, waitng to whisk her away from her home, from the place she'd always known.

Her sister Mary came forward and squeezed her hand. "I shall always remember you like this, Margaret," she said fondly, "So beautiful, so brave! King James and Scotland will be lucky to have you!"

"Mary," Margaret forced a smile, willing the tears in her eyes to not fall, "There has never been a sister more kind or dear as you are to me. I shall miss you, and write as often as I can. It is my dearest hope that we shall meet again someday."

"Of course we shall, sister!" Mary promised, "How forlorn I shall be without you! With only our brother and father left at home; how lonely court will be!"

"You will not be alone for long, Mary," Margaret stated, "I hear our father is planning a marriage for you as well."

"Oh, speak not of it," Mary sighed, "I hope for neither such reward nor such punishment!"

"Write to me, Mary," Margaret said, "and I hope that we shall both always be happy."

Mary nodded, and smiled. Then, she turned and looked over her shoulder. "Here comes Harry to say good-bye."

Margaret turned as well to see their brother, accompanied as always by Charles Brandon, hasten to join them. "Margaret!" he said as he joined them.

"Harry," Margaret smiled.

"I have come to tell you how very much you will be missed by us," Henry said.

"Thank you, brother. I shall miss you as well."

"You do us all very proud, by going so willingly. Of course we would rather keep you here, but it is not to be."

"No," Margaret sighed, "But I think I may be happy in Scotland, though I will think of you always."

Henry smiled, and kissed his sister's cheek.

Charles also leaned forward, to kiss the princess's hand. "I shall miss you as well, your highness," he announced, a twinkle in his eye, "All of my hours of trying to dissuade you from marrying King James by flirting with you myself have been a waste. I am now forced to turn my attentions to Princess Mary, in competition with her prospective husband."

Margaret laughed aloud at this. "Let us hope you have more luck with Mary. I wish you well, Charles, for you are as dear to me as my own brother. I hope, as well, that you will not be such a negative influence on my little brother in the future as you are now!"

Henry and Charles grinned, and Charles said solemnly, "If only I could promise you such a thing."

Lady Margaret Beaufort approached the four youths. "Margaret, it is time for you to leave."

"Will not my father come to bid me farewell?" Margaret asked.

"Important matters prevent him from it. He has written you this letter, and wishes you well on your journey," her grandmother handed her a sealed letter.

Margaret glanced at the letter, and then pressed it against her heart. "Thank you," she said soflty.

Lady Margaret placed a gentle hand on her granddaughter's arm. "Godspeed, Margaret," she said with a faint trace of a smile on her lips, "You will be sorely missed."

Henry and Mary exchanged a glance. Lady Margaret had never spoke such fond words to them, but of course, as they all acknowledged, Margaret was her favourite.

"Thank you, grandmother. I will miss you as well." She faced her family and smiled bravely, "God bless and keep you all, and I heartily desire you all to write to me. Tell my lord father of this as well. My fondest memories will always be of this time I have spent with you all, however short it was." She took their hands and held them each for a moment, and then, with a final nod and smile, turned away to board her carriage. Lady Margeret, Henry, Mary and Charles all watched as the parade of lords, ladies, their servants and their dear sister disappeared through the trees.

As they finally lost sight of Margaret, Mary burst into quiet sobs.

"Oh hush Mary," Lady Margaret chided, "Heaven knows your time will come soon enough!" She patted her young granddaughter's shoulder before bustling into the palace.

"More comforting words were never spoken by the Dragon Lady!" Charles exclaimed. He wound Mary's arm through his, and squeezed her hand. "Come along, princess, and watch me beat your brother at a game. It will cheer you up immensely; I know it always cheers me up."

"And what game do you speak of, that you will be surely beat me at?" Henry demanded.

"Any game, my lord, so you may choose," Charles winked at Mary, who brightened up a bit with a tiny smile.

"Archery, then," Henry said, "For my aim is improving with every game!"

"As is mine," Charles said, "So let us see which of us is the most improved. Little Mary will be the judge."

"I warn you that I am liable to be biased," Mary laughed.

"I am counting on your being biased in my favour," Charles grinned, and led the girl away, with her brother following closely behind.

* * *

For the next two weeks, Margaret's presence was sorely missed. Mary was unhappy and everyone could see it. Lady Margaret urged her young granddaughter to not let herself be so emotional; what would she do when her own time came? Surprisingly, this did not cheer Mary up in the slightest.

The one who comforted her the most during this period of loss was, oddly enough, Charles Brandon. The two had not been very close friends before; he was just her brother's playmate, and nothing at all to her. However, Henry was being distracted now, with his duties as Prince of Wales, leaving Charles with plenty of free time on his hands, which he was glad to spend with Mary.

Charles took great pleasure in amusing Mary. He would seek her out in the mornings, and cheerfully list off the things he had planned to brighten her day. Mary was grateful for the company, but suspicious of the cause of his generosity of spirit.

"If Harry told you to amuse me, you needn't bother," Mary said suddenly one day while she and Charles played checkers in the garden. "I don't want your charity."

"Madam, you dishonour me!" Charles said animatedly, "Do you suppose that I wouldn't spend time with you of my own accord?"

"You never have before," Mary pointed out.

"Well, neither of us were this unoccupied before," Charles grinned at her, "In truth, your highness gives me something to look forward to doing with my day. However, if I have intruded upon your solitude, of course I will beg your forgiveness and take my leave." Charles stood up, and bowed to her. He turned on his heel and walked a few paces away.

"Wait!" she called.

Charles smiled, and spun around, his face quickly becoming solemn, "Yes?"

Mary stood up, and twisted her hands nervously. "I do appreciate your company, and I don't wish to have you leave now."

Charles bowed like a gentleman, but his eyes were twinkling slyly. "If your highness insists," he said, returning to their game.

Mary hid her smile, as she studied the board before her.

Charles watched her amusement for a minute or two, before saying gently, "Perhaps your highness would care to jump my piece over here, you see?"

Mary looked up at Charles and glared. "Of course I saw. I merely searched for a better course of action."

"Of course," Charles nodded, then grinned, "Though I could have told you much more quickly that that is the only course of action you might take."

Mary raised her eyebrows. "Perhaps you'd like to play yourself, Charles, if you're the only one clever enough to stand a chance against you."

Charles laughed. "I'm sorry, your highness, I will not interfere again."

Mary shrugged, and looked back at the game. "As long as you wait until I ask you to interfere, then I do not mind." She slid forward her game piece.

Charles nodded, then moved his hand to the board, "If only you had asked me to interfere," with a few quick motions, the board was cleared of her pieces, "You might have won."

"It would be an empty victory."

"But a victory all the same," Charles replied.

Mary sighed angrily. "Shall we walk around the garden? I do not think you can beat me at that."

"I will try not to," he answered as he stood up, took her arm, and led her towards the gardens.

* * *

For once, Parliament was silent. Henry watched with impressed fascination as a man, who could be no more than thirty years of age, stood up boldly before the Parliament and opposed the king's demands.

Since Henry's father the king had ordered Henry to watch occasional proceedings of parliament it had been a tedious event. Henry was hidden in the back of the room, so that he could watch without being noticed himself. The discussions were always drawn out affairs, with no discernable end in sight.

"You have not been brought up for this," the king had said firmly, "But you need to know the people you lead, and there is no better way to do it than to observe those that serve the people." And so, once a month or so, Henry was stuck sitting in Parliament.

"Those that serve the people," Henry scoffed to himself. Parliament was next to nothing; a sham, an empty display. It certainly didn't represent anyone. The king answered to no one.

"Arthur would never have been forced into this," Henry thought begrudgingly more than once, "My father does not trust me to be king. He never will."

This day had been like many of the others. The king had sent word to the House of Commons with a demand; he wanted money. This came as no surprise. However, even Henry had to admit, the way that his father intended to get the money was impressive in it's stealth.

King Henry was entitled to a grant, with the upcoming marriage of Princess Margaret to King James. However, King Henry now requested more money than he intended to hand over with Margaret, and it was obvious that the king intended to keep the rest for himself. Parliament had to vote upon whether or not to allow the grant.

Parliament was virtually powerless against the monarchs; everyone knew it, though no one would admit it. Still, Henry was curious about what they would actually do when approached with such an ill-disguised attempt by the king to take more money from the people. Henry leaned forward eagerly, waiting to see if his future Parliament would defy a king. There was silence among the men, as each of them either searched for the right words, or waited for someone else to find them.

The thing they had all been waiting for finally happened, in a most unexpected way. A young man stood up from among them and cleared his throat. "Gentlemen," he said, his voice clear and steady, "I fear I have no choice but to follow my conscience and vote against this motion."

Henry was amazed. He had been certain that the king would get just what he had demanded, as was always the case. And yet, here was a man, a nobody in Parliament, standing up and voting against the sovereign king!

One gentleman raised himself up a bit, and called, "What is the nature of your disapproval?"

"It is my firm belief that taxation is in itself disgraceful, a thing to be opposed and abhorred," the man answered.

"That is your only answer?"

"Yes."

"You will not be persuaded to change your mind?"

"I do not think anyone could accomplish such a feat should he wish it," the man responded.

"This matter has received your unmoving opposition, and yet we get from you so vague an answer?"

"It is a simple matter, and I gave it a simple answer." The room was still mostly silent, save for a few murmurs, and sensing that the room was still unsatisfied with his answer, the man continued, "Do not pretend that I am alone in this. Is there really need for such a large amount of money, which is to come from taxes, to be granted without a scruple? If his majesty the king were to continue in this way of taxation, who is to say how far it would go? Would you, gentleman, like to see your lands becoming the subject of royal inspection? Could you bear to see your properties scrutinized to see what could be held taxable? Indeed, it is too great a thing to ask. This is a matter of taxation, gentleman, and only that. Due to my unwavering opposition to this issue, I must consequently oppose this bill!"

The young man in no way had the last word that day. Others spoke up in agreement with him, adding their own arguments and opinions to his, while others spoke in defense of the bill. At the end, the amount of money to be granted to the king was significantly less than what the king had requested.

"Boy!" Henry motioned to his page, who stood nearby. The boy approached him. "Who is that man? The one who first opposed the bill?"

"I believe his name is More, your Grace; Thomas More."

"I'd like to speak to him. I will be waiting with my horse as usual, and you will bring Thomas More to me," Henry said.

The page nodded and hurried off.

Within ten minutes, as Henry waited in the designated spot, he saw the page boy return with the bold man, Thomas More.

More bowed to the prince. "Your Grace," he said.

"Your name is Thomas More?"

"It is," More confirmed.

"I see," Henry said, "That was quite a performance you put on in Parliament today."

"I only speak the truth, your Grace, as I see it."

"Am I to deduct that you see my father the king as a greedy tyrant?" Henry laughed.

"Those are strong words, your Grace, and I have never spoken against his majesty."

"Nor will you. I see you being always diplomatic, and yet always so opinionated," Henry shook his head, "In any case, as I am to be King, I must learn to establish the true character of a man, whether or not it is shown to me. I must say, Thomas More, that you've impressed me considerably today. If things go as I suspect, and my father the king is not as impressed by you, and you are in fact penalized for this, I now give you my word that you may be in my parliament, when I am king."

"Your Grace honours me with your thoughtfulness," More responded.

"Not at all. I am willing to go to great lengths for anyone brave enough to defy my lord father!" Henry laughed aloud again, and mounted his horse. "God bless and keep you, then, and your opinions!" He rode away from Thomas More, still laughing.

* * *

The news of the king's demands being considerably downsized arrived at the family residence of York Place before Henry did. He came into the palace to find his father in a terrible fury. His grandmother, Lady Margaret, watched her son rage while she shook her head.

"Were you in parliament today?" the king demanded as his son bowed to him.

"I was, my lord father. A most interesting session, I should think it," Henry answered coolly.

"Then you heard? You heard the impertinance of that insolent commoner, that nobody!"

"Yes, I did," Henry responded.

"It will not be borne! How can he, a simple beardless boy dare to defy his majesty, his sovereign king?!"

"Well, it was put to vote," Henry shrugged.

"A technicality," snapped the king, "No one votes against me. It does not happen."

"Well, it is has happened," Lady Margaret stated, "And what will you do about it?"

"He will be punished. I will not bear such impudence; not I!" The king shouted.

"My lord, can you not just ignore it?" Henry spoke up.

The king whirled around and faced his son, and Lady Margaret turned to him in surprise. "Ignore it?" the king cried, "Ignore that slight against me!"

"I don't think he meant anything by it," Henry said, his father's fury-filled eyes making him nervous, "It was a matter of opinion."

"Opinions do not exist in my parliament," snapped the king, "I am the king, the supreme ruler, ordained by God! I do not answer to any earthly institutin. You, your grace, must learn this lesson very quickly if you wish to succeed."

"Thomas More did not speak against you, and you still got the grant. Is it necessary to exact any revenge on him?"

King Henry's fury only grew. "You will quickly learn the price of undeserved mercy. Leniency is a despicable habit, which we must break you of immediately. Perhaps you don't have the stomach for governing. It will not do for a king to be weak and pitiful; if that is what you are then I cannot have you as the future king. If the world went as it ought, I would not have lost my true son and heir, but would instead have been rid of this cowardly boy who would take pity on a common lawyer!"

"Henry, do not question the will of God," Lady Margaret said hastily.

Henry stared at his father, and balled his hands up into fists. He eyes narrowed to slits, and he stormed out of the room.

"Now you've done it, Henry," Lady Margaret sighed.

Henry moved through the corridors, moving faster and faster until he broke into a run. Servants leapt out of his way as the boy charged through the palace, his father's cold words ringing in his head. _My true son and heir.... my true son and heir... my true son and heir..._

Henry was running blindly now, not caring where he was going or where he would end up. _My true son and heir... instead a cowardly boy..._

Finally, Henry slowed and collapsed against the wall, struggling to catch his breath. His chest tightened and constricted, and his eyes filled with angry tears that he was too frustrated to pay any mind to. He heard footsteps approaching, and fearing that it was his father following him, Henry ducked into the nearest room.

It was the chapel that he'd tumbled into. Henry was never a devout or pious boy, and only came here when forced into religious activities.

Henry moved to the front of the chapel, completely out of energy, and sunk to his knees. He buried his face in his hands, and pulled on his hair as he moaned in frustration.

Why _had_ Arthur died? Why had the light for the future, the next king, been taken away? What had Arthur done to deserve to die? What right did Henry have to take his place? Henry had often heard of hearts so good and pure that God couldn't let them live. Was Arthur's heart such a one as this? Henry rubbed his temples furiously. What plan did God have for him that was so wonderful that Arthur had to be taken out of his way so that he could achieve it?

"Do you come seeking solace?" a voice from behind him asked.

Henry lifted his head and looked over his shoulder. His father's chaplain stood there, his hands crossed before him as he watched the prince through shrewd eyes.

"I just-" Henry said weakly, shaking his head, "I just want to know what's in store for me. I suppose I must ask this question of God. I wasn't meant to live this life; my brother's life. He was meant to be king, he wanted to be king. My father's true son and heir. Now I live in his shadow."

The chaplain moved closer, and set his hand on Henry's shoulder. "Have you considered that this was never meant to be your brother's life?"

"Of course it was. He was the prince of Wales, my father's heir. If he hadn't gotten sick and died, he would have been king."

"But he did become ill, and he did die. If this was meant to be your brother's life, it would have been. You don't have to try to live up to any expectations set out for him; this is your life. You are your father's son and heir, despite anyone who might have come before you."

Henry considered the man's words carefully.

"You are obviously meant for great things, and you will achieve them. Don't let anyone tell you that you weren't meant to achieve them. If you just have faith that you're living the life that you're supposed to live, any thoughts of your brother will be far pleasanter." Seeing that the prince was taking in his words, the man patted him gently on the shoulder, "Don't lose your faith, your Grace, nor your belief in yourself." He moved away, towards the doors of the chapel.

"Wait," Henry turned around, "You must tell me who I am so indebted to, for bringing me this consolation."

The man smiled and shook his head. "There is no debt, your Grace. I am Thomas Wolsey, and forever in your service and that of your family." He bowed slightly, and then took his leave.

* * *

Author's Note cont'd: _Soo how did you like it?? As per the usual, the dates may be a bit askew. Notably, Wolsey became Henry VII's chaplain in 1507, but in this story this event happens earlier. Also, Thomas More's actions in Parliament may not be entirely factual. He really did oppose Henry VII taking more tax money, and must have made a speech, true to his reputation, but there is no way that I could do it justice. Also, Henry VIII probably never sat in on Parliament when he was Prince of Wales; it's just a little plot device I invented. I put this note at the end of the chapter as opposed to the beginning to avoid spoilers._

_Also, I have a small request to make of you that would help me out a lot. If and when you review (p.s please do, especially in response to my following request), please tell me which of the queens you would like Henry to choose and why. Thanks to a reviewer for my last chapter, my val princess, for giving me the idea. Also, whatever comments and critiques you could give me would be very helpful._

_See you next chapter!!_


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Note: Sorry it has taken me _so _long to add a new chapter to this story. I've been unbelievably busy. Anyhoo, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I personally enjoy the ending of this chapter, because I think it's a big milestone for Catherine's character. Also, please note the slight jump in time. :)_

**Disclaimer**: Still don't own anything.

* * *

**CHAPTER IX**

"My lady!" an excited voice called from the corridor.

Catherine looked up from her needlework. Her ladies-in-waiting- now but three in number- looked up as well, and looked at the princess in confusion. Doña Elvira, who was, as always, in a foul mood, looked annoyed that there would be shouting in the hearing of her charge.

Don Rodrigo hurried in, bowing hastily, and then moved to the princess's side. "My lady, I am overjoyed to bring you this piece of news!"

"Then speak quickly, Don Rodrigo, as I am in great need of some good news!" Catherine urged him.

"His majesty has finally agreed to the betrothal of yourself and Prince Henry!"

Catherine drew in her breath. "Are you certain?"

"I have it from the king himself."

"It is impossible," Doña Elvira said, "What about her marriage to Arthur?"

"I presume it will be declared invalid, and a dispensation granted from the Pope."

"I believed the king to be examining other possibilities!" Doña Elvira insisted.

"Perhaps he might have been, but now it is quite certain that Prince Henry and Princess Catherine will be wed."

Catherine gasped, and laughed aloud. She was to be married after all- to Harry! It had been so long since she'd set eyes on the prince, but she remembered him distinctly. Though she had married his brother, she'd _known _that their futures were somehow intertwined, by friendship or something more. It had taken a long time. Her husband had been dead for three years now, and all this time Catherine was a virtual prisoner at Durham House. At long last, Harry of all people would set her free!

It had been a long three years, sad and lonely. The worst news Catherine had received was that of the death of her mother, Isabella. This had caused Catherine immeasurable grief, and made her feel more lost and alone than before. Doña Elvira had also felt the blow most acutely, and they mourned for the lost queen together.

"Thank God!" Catherine's lady Inez whispered.

Catherine turned and smiled brightly at her ladies. "Indeed, thank God, ladies, for we have been very blessed!" Catherine turned back to the ambassador. "Perhaps, Don Rodrigo, I could appeal to my treasurer for sufficient funds to at least buy some clothes to replace these rags we have no choice but to wear!"

"Where would you propose to get these funds, my lady?"

"Perhaps we could sell a bit of my dowry."

"My lady! The dowry is not to be touched!"

"Only a little, Don Rodrigo! Only perhaps ten crowns each, so that we might appear before his majesty and my future husband, without shame!"

"I do not think the king would ever allow it!"

"Don Rodrigo," Catherine said, her tone becoming quiter and more severe, "You make me question the dilligence with which you seek to help me. Indeed, I no longer wonder why this betrothal took so long to come about. Had you dedicated yourself to helping my cause, I might not be reduced to this state of poverty!"

Don Rodrigo did not meet the princess's eyes.

"And so, Don Rodrigo," Catherine stepped forward, her head held high and her blue eyes flashing, "You will go _now_ and speak to my treasurer on behalf of myself and of my ladies."

"As you wish, my lady," Don Rodrigo bowed and retreated.

Catherine watched him leave, and then turned back to her ladies, and beamed. Maria, Inez, Francesca and even Doña Elvira were spellbound by their mistress's newfound strength. "The tide has turned," she said confidently, "Things are as they should be. I will marry, and someday I will be queen."

Don Rodrigo was also apparently encouraged by Catherine's enthusiasm, and went directly to the treasurer, Don Juan de Cuero. After much discussion and argument, Catherine and her ladies were granted a small sum.

* * *

"I am to marry Catherine!?" Henry exclaimed.

Henry had only minutes ago been called into an interview with his father and grandmother, where the king had then told his son of his betrothal.

"I never supposed that such a thing was possible," Henry said, shaking his head in disbelief, "But- you've decided? We are betrothed?"

King Henry sighed. "For now."

Henry frowned. "For now? But- my lord? How is it possible that it will not come to be?"

"If you and she are married at all, it will not be for a number of years. A great many things can happen in a number of years," the king replied.

"But if I do not marry Catherine, what will happen to her? I have heard, my lord, that she is in a most impoverished state! If not by marriage to me, then how will her fortunes improve?"

"It is none of your concern," Lady Margaret spoke up, "I would not recommend setting your heart upon such an unstable possibility. Think no more of it."

"How can I think not of it?"

"We live in uncertain times. A betrothal today can easily be broken tomorrow. Take Lady Margaret's advice, and think not of it," the king stated, "You are dismissed. I have more business to attend to."

Henry bowed, and retreated from the room. As he bounded out into the corridor, he nearly collided with his sister Mary.

"Mary!" Henry exclaimed, "I am betrothed!"

"Brother, is it so? To whom?" Mary demanded.

"Princess Catherine! Imagine; me to marry Arthur's Catherine!"

"Well! Harry, if you are happy, I am scarcely less happy to hear it. As I remember her, she was all things kind and gracious. You deserve her,"

"Indeed!" Henry laughed, and then took notice of his sister's face. "Mary, you look as though you have something on your mind? What is troubling you?"

"Oh, nothing is weighing on _me_, I assure you. But I have only just learned some news that may be a concern to you."

"To me?" Henry frowned, "What is it?"

"You remember that man you told me about, Thomas More?"

"Of course. What's wrong?"

"He should not have spoke out against our father," Mary shook her head, "His own father has been locked up in the Tower."

"On what charge?" Henry demanded.

"Nothing too serious, I think. But it is this that will upset you, I think; More's father will not be released until a fine has been paid, and until Thomas More withdraws from public life."

"It cannot be!" Henry exclaimed, "How can our father take such petty revenge?"

"Well, I am not surprised. I thought you might like to know."

"Thank you, Mary," Henry nodded.

Mary smiled. "Congratulations on your betrothal. I know you shall be very happy."

"Thank you, sister. I shall." Henry brushed his hand against his forehead thoughtfully. If his father would take such revenge on a poor lawyer, what could he do if he became more provoked?

That very night, Thomas More was packing up his belongings. Retiring to a quiet life in the country wasn't necessarily a terrible fate, but Thomas had given up a life as a priest to pursue a career in the law. To have his hopes dashed so quickly was unbelievably frustrating.

A knock on the door drew his attention away from his thoughts, and he went to the door to answer it. "Yes?" he said to the stranger at the door.

"You are Thomas More, the lawyer?"

"I am," Thomas answered.

"I have an important message for you." The boy handed Thomas a piece of paper.

Thomas frowned, and opened the letter.

_My unfortunate friend, _it read

_It seems that things are as I feared, and you are to be punished for your impudence. For this, I send my regrets and my sympathy. That is the price for freedom of speech._

_I hope you have not forgotten my promise to you, as I assure you that I have not. You will return to court and a life in the law when I am king. Your honesty and consciousness is refreshing, and I look forward to being exposed to it more in the future._

_Until then, my best wishes._

_Henry_

Thomas looked with astonishment at the letter. To think, the son of the very man who was ruining his chances was now promising to restore him in the future. Thomas shook his head with wonder at the note, written in the prince's own hand, signed with an informal 'Henry'. What had he done to deserve such an honour, besides standing true to his integrity?

"Will there be a reply?" the boy asked impatiently.

"Indeed. Send his Grace my deepest thanks, and hopes for the future," Thomas answered.

The boy bowed and moved away.

Thomas smiled, glad that he now had this hope for the future.

* * *

Months and months dragged on. Catherine waited for any news of her betrothal, but got none. She'd expected it to take some time, but had also hoped for some news.

On one rainy, desolute day, Catherine sat alone in her chambers. She'd dismissed her ladies and Doña Elvira for the evening, wanting some time to herself.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Francesca walked in. "Forgive me, my lady, but Don Rodrigo insisted upon seeing you. He says it is very urgent."

Catherine closed her book and nodded. Francesca moved aside to let Don Rodrigo enter, and then slipped out herself.

"My lady," Don Rodrigo bowed, "I'm afraid that I bring sad tidings for you."

Catherine looked at him wearily. "Oh no," she said softly, "What is it?"

"Two things that are most unfortunate have occured, and another that might bring you some joy."

"Let me have the good news first, Don Rodrigo," Catherine said, "To soften the blow."

Don Rodrigo bowed, and then stated, "Your father King Ferdinand has taken another wife."

Catherine was too shocked to speak. Another wife? So soon after the death of her mother?

"He has married Germaine de Foix," the ambassador continued, "The niece to the king of France."

"But- isn't she much younger than he? Young enough to be his daughter!"

"Indeed, it is so," Don Rodrigo answered, "But, I believe King Ferdinand hopes to produce an heir. This brings me to my unpleasant news."

"What is it?" Catherine asked.

"Your betrothal to Prince Henry is broken," Don Rodrigo said.

"Broken?!" Catherine gasped.

"And has been, for some time."

"Don Rodrigo, how can this be? I cannot understand it!"

"My lady, King Henry has since been examining other possibilites and- forgive me, but your political value has signifcantly decreased with the death of Queen Isabella. Also, I believe there were objections to King Ferdinand."

"Why such objections? What about my dowry? Is this not at least satisfactory to the king?"

"I fear it has also decreased in value," Don Rodrigo replied.

Catherine squeezed the rosary around her neck fervently. How could this have happened so quickly? How could she have been ignorant to this?!

"There is something else," Don Rodrigo said uneasily.

"What more can there be? How much more grief can I bear?!" Catherine cried.

"You are aware, my lady, that your sister Joanna is the ruler of Castile, along with her husband, Philip."

"Yes," Catherine answered. Her sister Juana, now called Joanna, was her mother's heiress.

"It seems that you have your brother-in-law to blame for the ending of your betrothal."

"Why?" Catherine asked, her voice seeming too strange and tortured to be her own.

"There has been a shameless plot against your father, and it has moved far out of Spain. Philip hopes to make an alliance with King Henry, so that together they might overthrow your father. Philip proposed betrothing Princess Mary to his son Charles, and Prince Henry to his daughter Eleanor, thus ending your own betrothal. Your father has married, as I said, in hopes to produce an heir, so that Philip can never gain control of Aragon through your sister Joanna."

"It's not possible," Catherine gasped, "Juana would never allow it!"

"It seems she is completely under the power of her husband. She would say nothing against it, though it does threaten your own father. But the plot goes farther, my lady; even you have a spy among your servants."

"I do?" Catherine demanded, raising to her feet, "Who is it? Who would betray my trust and confidence against my father?!"

"It is someone who hates King Ferdinand most passionately. She is in league with her unsavory brother, and they will stop at no lengths to overthrow your father," Don Rodrigo bowed his head regretfully, and then said, "It is Doña Elvira, my lady."

Catherine sank back into her chair, her strength gone. "No," she said, but believed it. Oh yes, she believed every word. Now it all seemed so obvious. Doña Elvira had loathed King Ferdinand- had always loathed him. "Who is her brother?"

"The Spanish ambassador to the court of Philip's father, Maximilian. It has been a long process, but the plan is moving quickly. Should Philip succeed, all of Spain is lost to your family."

Catherine felt every bit of hope and faith in her slip away. How could she have been so blind? The world had used her ill, and now she would have her revenge. "Send Doña Elvira in here this instant," Catherine said, her voice bold and angry.

The duenna was brought in at once, and was immediately met with a cold glare from her charge. Doña Elvira said nothing, and sank to the floor before the princess.

"I have heard of your great intrigue, Doña Elvira," Catherine said scathingly.

Doña Elvira was pale, and it pleased Catherine to see the look of fear in her eyes. "You poisonous woman," Catherine said, her voice furious and terrifying, "You have betrayed me in your lust for power. I assure you, your treachery will never be forgotten. History will not know you as a great woman, but as a lying snake. I will not let you use me for your own advantage any longer. You are dismissed from my service, and it is my command that you leave England and pray that you do not cross my path again."

Doña Elvira was gone, and not seen again. Catherine spent that day and night in the chapel. Before she went to rest her weary soul, she pledged, "Never again will anyone get the better of me. I am Catalina, of Aragon and of Castile. My father is the great Ferdinand, and my mother was the wonderful Isabella, and I will live up to their legacy."


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note__: I am jumping a bit in Thomas More's political career here, but I wanted him to have a more central part in the story. Also I know it took a lot longer for Charles Brandon to become Suffolk historically, but I was impatient. Also, while most of the plot up to this point has been factual, I'm going to start letting it become more fictional. So, if facts are ignored, I'm sorry. Read and review, mes amis!_

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters or historical figures I use in this story, or any plots or characters borrowed from "The Tudors".

* * *

**CHAPTER X**

The plot to overthrow Ferdinand did not succeed. Philip died suddenly, and with him died the intrigue. Ferdinand began to rule as regent with his daughter Joanna. Despite this political change, there was no relief for Catherine. Her own situation was still uncertain.

King Henry, who had had his own part in the plot against Ferdinand, found himself increasingly provoked by the Spanish king. This worried Catherine, who felt that any problems between England and Spain could not help her case. Catherine would have to wait many years to find out what her fate would be.

Things came to a head seven years after Catherine's arrival in England. King Henry VII, after suffering from a lengthy illness, was dead.

England came to a stand-still at the death of the king. The frozen astonishment soon faded, as everyone turned their eyes to the new king; Henry. Before he was even coronated, the promise of a bright future was present.

It was three days after the death of the old king, that the new king, Henry VIII was coronated. His father's mother, Lady Margaret Beaufort, was to act as regent to him, as he was still considered too young to reign. Countries in Europe turned and paid a great deal of attention to him, a new and powerful, and unmarried, young king. His country itself was astounded by it's good fortune in having such a desirable king.

Henry was not ruled by his grandmother for very long. Two months after the death of her son, Lady Margaret also died, leaving Henry to rule on his own.

It was during this time of change, six months after the death of Henry VII, that Thomas More received summons from his new king. He was to bring himself to court and, as he was promised years ago, the king would give him a job.

The court was at York Place, and it was with a sense of familiarity that Thomas More returned there. As he looked about him, he could see that it had not changed very much.

One thing had definitely changed, however, and that was the king. Thomas More half-expected to find a young boy, as he had known before, sitting on the throne. But, when Thomas entered, it was a handsome young man he saw before him.

Henry was 21 years old now. He was a handsome, athletic young man, with quick intelligence and a shrewd outlook that he had inherited from his father. However, his face lit up at the sight of Thomas.

Thomas bowed to the king, and Henry beamed. "Thomas More, I thought never to see you again!"

"It has been a long time, your majesty."

"I expect you are pleased that I didn't forget about you," Henry stated.

"I am grateful for the honour of your majesty's attentions," Thomas conceeded.

Henry laughed. "Come, walk with me, Mr. More."

Henry led Thomas outside, to walk around the palace gardens. "How have you been these past few years?"

"I have endured them quite pleasantly, your majesty."

"I expect you have. How have you occupied yourself?"

"Writing, your majesty, and enjoying time with my family."

"You are a writer! I might have expected it! Then you are married?"

"I am, your majesty."

"What is her name?"

"Her name is Joan."

"Do you have children?"

"Four, your majesty."

"How fortunate you are. I expect you will be glad to find them well provided for in the future, with the new employment I plan to give you."

"Your majesty is too kind."

"I'd like you to be one of the undersheriff's of London. The position requires honesty and dedication, both of which are traits I have seen in you. If you impress me very much in these positions, I'm sure I'd be glad to raise you higher."

"Your majesty, I am overwhelmed by this generosity, and cannot think what I did to deserve it."

"I am currently rewarding those who have been kind to me in the past. Just a few short weeks ago, I made Thomas Wolsey my almoner. He was my father's chaplain, and always displayed great kindness and intelligence. You, Mr. More, showed me a strength of character that is rare and notable. I'd like to reward it, and now I have the means by which to do it."

"How can I repay this debt that I owe you?"

"By coming to court. I am planning to rejuvinate the court that my father let suffer. Soon, I expect, it shall be as infamous as that of France. Your wit and intelligence will be most welcome there."

"I thank you, your majesty, most emphatically."

"I hope someday that we can meet with the familiarity of friends. However, we have a great deal of time ahead of us. Come, Mr. More, and let us talk more of your charming country life!"

* * *

Princess Mary sipped from her cup of wine, and looked out at the tables laid before her. She sat at her brother Henry's side, as she was the lady of highest consequence at court. She laughed as her ladies-in-waiting danced with the gentlemen of court, as the fools danced and jested, as everyone enjoyed the merriment.

She glanced at her brother beside her. Already he had adopted a regal air. He watched the dancers and other guests as they enjoyed themselves with a satisfied smile on his lips.

"You already have a charmed reign, your majesty," she smiled at him, "The people are flocking to court as they never have before. I do believe you are the most popular man in Europe."

Henry laughed and continued to watch the festivities in front of him.

"Certainly the most popular bachelor," Mary remarked, "Have you noticed all of the ladies swooning over you?"

Henry raised his eyebrows at her. "I have barely done so, sister. Is it so?"

"You seem to have noticed one or two," Mary stated, and then glanced at a young woman directly, "Lady Anne Hastings particularily, I think."

Henry gave her a sharp look, and then smirked and looked away.

"I think you are having an affair with her," Mary accused him.

Henry reached out suddenly and grabbed his sister's hand, squeezing it forcefully. "It is my business, Mary. Do not tell me you are scolding me?"

"Of course not, brother," Mary said quickly and carefully, surprised by her brother's sudden act of aggression, "I only do wish you could find a wife. Bedding Lady Anne will not help you do so."

"I beg you will not speak of Lady Anne in such a manner," Henry said firmly.

"Of course, you are defensive. This is your first affair. I hope they are not too numerous, however," Mary said, searching for the words to relieve her brother's growing displeasure, "I do think Charles Brandon, and those other men you keep company with are to blame for this."

Henry ignored his sister's accusation. "Speaking of Charles, I have an idea regarding him. I would like to make him a duke."

"A duke!?" Mary exclaimed.

"Yes," Henry stated, "Duke of Suffolk."

"Well, Henry, I am astonished."

"Why?" Henry demanded sternly.

"Forgive me, it is- just his age. He is so young."

"His age is of no consequence to me, and neither should it be to you."

"Of course. I was only a little surprised. I daresay Charles deserves the honour."

"I'm glad you agree, sister," Henry stated. They were both quiet for a moment, before Henry leaned towards her and said, "I have something of great importance to tell you."

"What is it concerning?"

"I do not doubt you shall be pleased. It is in regards to the marriage I am arranging for you."

Mary turned sharply to look at him. "Marriage?!" she whispered.

"Yes," Henry said nonchalantly, "The king of France is lately widowed. We are striking a bargain this very minute."

Mary turned away, the evening immediately becoming very unpleasant. "How extraordinary," she heard herself say, "Pray excuse me, brother; I'd like to dance."

As soon as she stepped onto the floor, there were a multitude of young men offering their hand for a dance. It was Charles Brandon's she accepted, and let him lead her to the floor. Mary and Charles's friendship had only grown in the last few years, and now they were possibly closer than Henry and Charles were.

They were silent for a few minutes, neither one willing to begin a difficult conversation. Finally, Charles spoke. "What's the matter?" he asked quietly as they danced together.

"He's planning my marriage."

Charles paused, and then said, "To who?"

Mary choked back a sob, and danced around Charles. "Louis of France."

"That ancient old man?!" Charles said with astonishment.

"Shh, Charles, someone will hear!" Mary snapped, and continued to move gracefully with him.

"Why him?" Charles asked moodily.

"Alliances, on Henry's part. For Louis, I think he wants a male heir, as he has none."

"And who better for making heirs but an eighteen year old princess?" Charles said disgustedly.

"Please, don't talk about it," Mary begged.

"Have you tried talking to him? Begging him, even?"

"I only learned of it now. It's not even finalized yet."

"I hope your brother decides against it, for your sake," Charles said sadly.

"For my sake?" Mary repeated, slipping her hand into his.

"Well, for who else's?" Charles frowned.

Mary looked up at him. "Yes, Charles. Who else?"

Charles sighed. "Your brother would have my head."

"If it's any consolation," Mary said, curtying as the dance ended, "You can have my heart." Mary turned and walked away, leaving Charles on the dance floor.

Henry watched his good friend William Compton speaking quietly to Anne Hastings, while her husband, George Hastings looked on furiously. Henry smiled to himself. He knew what William would be saying to Anne; he would be passing along the invitation that would bring Lady Anne to the king's bed that night. Then, as Henry saw William linger while kissing Lady Anne's hand, his eyebrows raised with suspicion.

"Charles," Henry spoke to his friend, standing up to greet him, "What do you think of our friend William, and Lady Anne?"

Charles smiled, "William, as you know majesty, has always had a deep admiration for Lady Anne. However, as you also know, his dedication to you runs much deeper. Fear not, my friend; William will not take her from you. Only her husband would do that, and not without your blessing!"

Henry laughed. "Come, Charles, the night is young. Undoubtedly, you will find someone to suit your fancy tonight."

"That I have no doubt of," Charles replied.

* * *

In late September, it was settled. Mary would be going to France to marry Louis XII.

When she heard of it, Mary raced to her brother's chambers, to beg for him to change his mind. "Mary, all has been arranged. You will go to France at the beginning of next month, and for God's sake you will be grateful for the favour shown to you by the king of France."

"Please brother, for all of your affection for me, don't make me go."

"I don't understand your refusal. Why are you displeased?"

"Henry, he is so old. He only wants me to get children from me!"

"His plans for you are none of my business," Henry said firmly, walking away.

Mary didn't move, frozen in place by shock, "Henry, do you care nothing for me?!"

"This is not about how I feel about you. This is politics; you are the only English princess, and of course you must be married advantageously."

"Is that how you think of me?! Just a princess you can use to your advantage?"

Henry rubbed his temples in frustration. "Now, sister, that's enough. As I am your lord and king, you will go. I have heard that Louis is- very pleasant. He is surely very good to his wife."

"For he has had several," Mary snapped.

"Mary! I command you to go," Henry said, his voice summoning the power that the king of England possessed.

"Henry! _Please!_" Mary begged.

"That's enough. I have already arranged it. Charles will be escorting you and your company to London. I wish that you would follow the example of our sister Margaret, who went willingly to her husband, and found a very happy companion."

Mary stared at her brother, "Charles Brandon?"

Henry frowned. "Yes. Why?"

Mary sank into a chair, and sobbed, "It is too cruel of you, Harry!"

"Why, Mary, I thought you liked Charles?"

"I do- it isn't that. It's only-" Mary grasped Henry's hand and looked at him beseechingly, "Don't make me go!"

"That's enough," Henry said sternly, pulling away, "I am sure you will find happiness. Love will come easily once you are married."

"If you were ever really in love, Henry, you would know the depth of my despair," Mary said mournfully.

"What do you mean by that?" Henry demanded suspiciously.

"You just don't understand," Mary wailed, and then hurried out of the king's chambers.

Charles Brandon was playing cards with William Compton and Anthony Knivert outside of the king's rooms, waiting for the king to see them, when he saw Mary run past them. He quickly excused himself, and hurried after her.

"Mary!" he called, following her. He finally caught up with her, took her by the arm, and asked, "What is it?"

Mary shook her head. "I can't tell you here. Come with me," she led him into her chambers, and hurriedly dismissed her ladies-in-waiting, ignoring the curious looks they gave her.

"What's wrong?" Charles asked, "What's happened?"

"_It's_ happened! Charles, I'm going to France at the beginning of next month. I'm to be married."

Charles drew in his breath, and then paced towards the window. After composing himself, he turned back to face her. "Usually I would offer congratulations in this situation, but you do not seem at all pleased by this turn of events."

"How could I be pleased?!" Mary snapped, "I'm going to marry a total stranger, a twice-married old man! If you were truly my friend, you would not tease me about my grief."

"Perhaps it will not be so bad," Charles offered, "Perhaps Louis is kind."

"You cannot believe that," Mary said with a shake of her head, "Why are you not as distressed as I am?"

"What did you expect, Mary?!" Charles demanded.

"I thought-" Mary stammered, "Forgive me. I thought you cared." She moved towards the door. How could she have been so mistaken? Of course he didn't care. He was her brother's friend, only entertaining her when there was nothing else to do.

"Mary!" Charles grabbed her by the shoulders and made her face him. "Of course I care, you little fool! But would you have me break my heart over something that is so far beyond my own control?"

"You could speak to him-" Mary began.

"It would do no good," Charles replied.

"If we told him-"

"It would do no good," Charles repeated, "You know that."

Mary choked back a sob, because she knew he was right.

Charles took her face into his hands. "I'm sorry. I wish I were a king, to be a candidate for you."

"But you are not. So we must be a secret."

"We must make the best of it," Charles said softly. He leaned down and gently kissed her. It was the first time she'd ever been kissed properly, and now, she felt, perhaps the last. Would they ever be comfortably alone again?

"You are to escort me," Mary said, "We will have that time."

Charles grinned. "Believe me, princess, I will make the best of that time."

* * *

"I will go," Mary told her brother as they ate supper together that night.

Henry looked up from his plate at his sister, with interest. "What did you say?"

"I said I'll go. I will go to France, and marry King Louis, and I will not make a fuss."

Henry nodded, "I'm glad." He patted her hand fondly, "It will not be as bad as you expect."

Mary nodded appeasingly, and her brother returned to his supper. "I would like to make one request," she said gently.

Again, Henry looked up, this time aprehensively.

"In the event of Louis's death," Mary said, "I should like to marry whomever I please."

Henry sighed. "Mary, you know I cannot make any such promise. However, I will say that if King Louis should die in your lifetime, I will include you in any marriage propositions. Agreed?"

Mary sighed, and nodded, "Yes. That I will accept. For now."

Henry smiled at his sister's obstinance. "I'm sorry Mary, that this has fallen to your lot. You know I would rather keep you here with me always."

"It does not have to fall to my lot alone," Mary said, "Why do you not make a political marriage?"

"I have tried, and none suit me," Henry said vaguely, "But speaking of which, I've made a decision."

"Yes?" Mary said.

"I am going to invite Princess Catherine to Christmas. The court will be at Richmond Palace, and I will ask her to join the festivities."

"How good of you, Henry!" Mary remarked, "She will enjoy it."

"I expect so," Henry nodded.

"You remember, of course, your former betrothal to her," Mary said, "Would you ever consider such a thing again?"

Henry grinned, "If she is as pretty as I remember, such a thing shall not be objectionable."

Mary laughed. "Oh, Harry, I shall miss you when I go away."

"And I shall miss you, Mary. More than you know," Henry said affectionately.

* * *

Author's Note (cont'd):_ Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Now that Henry's finally the king (sorry it took ten chapters :p) you just know he'll be looking for a queen! You'll finally get to see a bit more of Henry's six wives. Don't forget to review, thanks for reading!_


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's Note: Hello readers!! I know, it's been a very very very very very long time since my last upload. I won't bore you with details about HOW busy I've been, but it's been a crazy month. However, now I have 2 weeks off from school.. so hopefully I'll be able to get a few chapters in here._

_Now, please note, of course, it took a lot longer to get from England to France in the 1500's than I'm depicting in this story, but I have to move the plot along! I hope you like this chapter, and if you do, please review!!_

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters or historical figures I use in this story, or any plots or characters borrowed from "The Tudors".

* * *

**CHAPTER XI**

"When shall we land in France?" Mary asked of Charles one night.

"I have been informed that we should be there by the end of this week at the latest."

"I had not expected it to be so soon," Mary sighed.

She and Charles were resting on the bed in her cabin of the ship that was ferrying them to France. As Charles had pledged, they'd made the most of their time together. On the ship, Mary and Charles carried out a whirlwind, but ill-fated courtship. Mary's ladies-in-waiting turned the other way when Charles came into the princess's cabin at night, and the sailors thought nothing of their affair as they themselves admired Mary's ladies.

"I will be married in a few days," Mary said sadly.

Charles nodded silently.

"Will you marry?" Mary asked of him.

Charles grinned, "You forget, I was married. I have no desire to do so again."

"Charles, I have a request for you," Mary sat up and looked at him, "If Louis dies, I want you to bring me back to England. And I want you to marry me."

"Mary- your brother-"

"I don't care," Mary said firmly.

"You will when he banishes us from court."

"No, for I will have you," Mary said fondly, "Promise me Charles. Promise me now."

Charles looked into Mary's eyes. Her face was pinched with pain and fear- what desperation must she be feeling, he wondered. How he wished to relieve her pain. With a small smile, he pulled Mary back to his side, and kissed her head. "I promise."

* * *

As predicted, the ship landed the next day, and within a mere few days, Mary had arrived at the king's palace. She squeezed Charles's hand frantically as he and England's ambassador escorted her in.

It was almost worse than she feared. The whole court stood silently, watching her enter. She was nearly visibly trembling, but Charles's presence kept her on her feet. The king sat in his throne, waiting for them. Apparently he'd decided to wear all of his finery, but this did not help his appearance. He was old, with white haired and yellow, wrinkled skin, and there was nothing more daunting to young Mary than this. She hid her horror at the sight of him, and bowed respectfully.

The king stood, wobbling on unsteady legs. He spoke in his shaky, elderly voice a few quick French words. The ambassador informed Mary that the king welcomed his future wife. Mary moaned quietly, but Charles held tightly onto her hand, to remind her of his presence. "Thank him," she hissed to the ambassador, making an effort to smile at King Louis.

Louis stumbled down towards her, and took her hands, nearly wrenching one away from Charles. He spoke again, and then leaned forward to kiss her on both cheeks. "The king looks forward to the time you will spend together as man and wife. He wishes to inform you that you will be married, without further ado, in three days."

Mary forced a smile. "Thank him," she said again, and then reluctantly and bitterly added, "And assure him of the depth of my happiness."

If Mary's tone gave away her unhappiness, the king made no notice of it as he held firmly to her hand, and paraded her through the palace. Moving at a snail's pace, Mary longed for the quick step of Charles.

* * *

At long last, the daunting day arrived. Mary was nervous; alone in this strange land, attended by unfamilliar maids of honour. Charles was off jousting in celebration of her marriage to the king- how hypocritical, she thought bitterly. Her own English maids were joined by French maids. Mary did not speak to them, and they did not speak to her. They prepared her for her wedding in silence.

Mary had decided to wear her hair loose. The red-gold locks fell in silken waves to her waist. Her dress was gorgeous, white and sparkling and new, and looked wonderful on her. If Charles did not already regret abandoning her, he soon would.

Her lonely, bitter thoughts were interrupted as the brush that one of the French maids was pulling through her hair caught on a knot, and pulled back on Mary's head. Already in a foul mood, this slight irritation caused her anger and distress to boil over. Mary flew out of her seat and whirled on the startled maid. "You little fool!" snapped Mary, "Cannot the French do anything right?"

"I beg your pardon, madam," the girl said meekly, with a clear English accent. Mary had thought she was a French girl, and would not understand Mary's words. The maid glanced at Mary briefly, and there was something in her dark eyes that Mary didn't like. Could it be disdain- no, it was _pity_.

"Well keep going," Mary snapped, sitting back to let the girl once again brush her hair. The girl continued gently and carefully. "You are English?" Mary said.

"Yes, madam, I am," the maid answered.

"And why are you in France?"

"My father is on an assignment from his majesty. My sister and I came to France for the purpose of serving your highness on your happy day," she replied.

Mary was sure she heard irony in the girl's voice. "Indeed?" Mary said, "What is your name?"

"I am Anne Boleyn," the girl answered, as though Mary ought to know the name of a lowly maid of honour.

"Well, Mistress Boleyn," Mary snapped, "If you're quite finished, I believe you have other work to attend to."

Anne moved around the chair, and curtsied to Mary, and then moved off to work with the other maids. Mary saw the girl glance back at her, again with an air of unwanted sympathy, and then she looked away.

Mary went to her marriage as she would her execution; beautiful, woeful and chillingly calm.

* * *

"Charles, I'm glad you're back at court for Christmas!" Sir Anthony Knivert greeted his friend with a friendly punch on the arm.

"I wouldn't miss Henry's first Christmas as king for the world!" Charles Brandon replied with a grin, "How is our king?"

"Jolly, as befits the season," Anthony laughed, "How did you leave the princess?"

"Decidedly less cheerful. I fear Christmas will not be pleasant for the Queen of France this year."

"Poor girl. Oh well, that's the price girls have to pay for their princehood. Well, princess-hood."

"Do I hear correctly, that Henry has invited Princess Catherine to celebrate Christmas with him?"

"Oh, indeed," Anthony said, "We're all in a great excitement to see her. I heard that she was very beautiful when she was married to the late Prince. Is that true?"

"She was one of the most beautiful creatures I'd ever beheld," Charles said, and then winked, "But I was young then, and vastly inexperienced."

"As was she," Anthony mentioned, "So perhaps time has favoured her as much as it has you."

"Oh, Anthony, I fear you hope in vain. As both of us know, time has never been kind to women!" Charles stated.

On the first day of Christmas, the princess was expected. She was slightly delayed, and would not appear until that evening's banquet.

The king supervised the settings-up for the banquet most enthusiastically. "This will be the merriest Christmas the court has seen in many years," Henry told Charles excitedly, "Masques and dancing and food, and all things good and pleasant. It will be a tribute to past rulers; my father and mother, and of course my grandmother Lady Margaret, as well as my mother's family. Also, it will be a display for the power of the current ruler; me!"

"I don't know if the Dragon Lady deserves such a moving tribute," Charles joked.

Henry laughed aloud at this. "What a terrible nickname we children invented! Oh, if only we could stay young forever, Charles. Of course, you will get old far before me."

"Not very far, your majesty."

"Far enough to suit me," Henry replied with a grin.

* * *

That night was everything Henry had expected. Ladies danced in alluring costumes, music swept through the hall, fools pranced around poking fun, and food was endlessly in supply. The princess was not announced until the festivites had been enjoyed for nearly an hour.

Henry was displeased by his guest of honour's lateness. "She should appreciate the great kindness I show her," he snapped to Charles, "For all effects and purposes, I could be like my father, and abandon her. One would think she would leap at the chance to be in my good graces."

When Princess Catherine entered the hall, all irritation and threats were instantly forgotten. Catherine was more beautiful than anyone at court had remembered. She was a vision in a scarlet and white gown, her glossy hair falling low on her back. She moved with an effortless grace and her head was held high and proud.

Henry got to his feet, his eyes arrested by the sight of her. She moved closer to him, with the whole court watching her every move. She stopped ten feet away from him, smiled brightly, and curtsied low, with her ladies behind her. "Your majesty," she said in accented English, "How good of you to invite me to this festive occasion."

Henry seemed to remember himself, and walked towards her. He kissed the hand that she held out. "Princess Catherine," he said, "It is an honour to have you here. Come," he led his former-sister-in-law back to his seat, and sat her at his right hand sign. After a quick signal to the musicians, the merriment slowly started up again, but all eyes were on Catherine of Aragon.

Catherine turned to the king and smiled. "Dear Harry. You promised we would be friends, and I am so sorry that it has taken this long for such a friendship to come about."

Henry grinned at the sound of his nickname. "Catalina," he said, "I thought never to call you that again."

"I like to hear you say it," she said softly, "It reminds of good old times."

"Yes. Hopefully the future will be even brighter."

Catherine laughed and nodded in agreement. Then, she looked about the room. "Congratulations, your majesty. You have made the court so lovely. I have sadly missed such joyous scenes."

"Of course you have," Henry said, "Let me now offer you my sincerest regrets that you have been so neglected in the past, and assure you that it will not happen again."

"Your majesty is too kind," Catherine said.

"Of course you must call me Harry. We were once brother and sister, though it was so long ago, I do not care to think of it."

"Then think not of it. After all, the legitmacy of my marriage to your wonderful brother is still in question."

"Then you still deny consummating the relationship?"

"Vehemently, Harry. I swear to you now, as I always have, my marriage was chaste. I am as ever a maiden untouched."

Henry smiled. "We need not discuss it now. Let us enjoy the evening."

"Indeed! I should very much like to see you dance, Harry. I have only heard of how wonderful you are at it."

"Only if you will dance with me, Catalina," Henry stated.

"With pleasure!"

After dancing a set with Henry, Catherine went to sit down, to watch the festivities, while Henry stayed with his courtiers to dance. Catherine's eyes swept over the room, and she looked upon everything with approval. Her eyes, however, didn't land on Henry.

At one point, she leaned towards her lady-in-waiting Maria, and said softly, "Has he been looking?"

"He cannot take his eyes off of you, my lady," Maris replied.

Catherine smiled. "Good." She turned back and laughed at the goings-on.

On the last day of the festivities, Henry approached Catherine with a proposal that he had been considering. In order to give them privacy, so that he could explain himself to her, he invited her to walk with him; the gardens were quite beautiful and serene when covered with snow. Catherine agreed, and they went out to walk.

"Catherine, I told you how eager I am to make up for the years you were kept at Durham House."

"I appreciate any generosity from your majesty, of course."

"Then, I make you this offer; I'd like you to come to court- for good. After Christmas here at Richmond, we are moving back to York Place. Unless you are very happy at Durham, I'd like to bring you in to make your household at court, at my expense."

Catherine stopped and looked at him, a wide smile on her face. "Harry, you are too kind to me! I never expected such a thing from you!"

"Please, I insist. Will you agree?"

"Yes! How could I refuse such an offer?"

"Excellant!" Henry said, "I have planned it all. You shall have the finest rooms, second only to mine. You shall have everything that was denied to you these last seven years. Catalina, I mean to compensate for every wrong that you had to endure."

"They were not your wrongs," Catherine said with a smile.

"They were my father's, and so, by inheritance, mine. You will allow me to set my conscience at ease?"

Catherine nodded, her eyes shining happily. "Yes, Harry. Thank you, so much!"

* * *

"More, could I have a word with you?"

Thomas More looked up to see Thomas Wolsey standing before him. Wolsey and More had met during the celebrations. Though they did not exactly get along, they at least saw eye to eye. Both of their good fortunes were due to the king, and they were both in his service. "Certainly, Wolsey. What is it?"

"I suppose you've heard that the king has invited Princess Catherine to court?"

More nodded, "I have."

"Well, what is your opinion of it?" Wolsey asked, sitting next to him.

"She is a most stunning princess, isn't she? Upon her arrival, she thrilled the hearts of everyone; there is nothing lacking in her that the most beautiful girl should have."

"Indeed, the princess herself is admirable. I meant, what do you think of the situation his majesty is putting himself in?"

"Is there something wrong with it?"

"Isn't it clear?" Wolsey said impatiently, "The king is falling in love with his brother's widow!"

"Surely not!" Thomas More exclaimed.

"It is so. The whole court can tell. His mistress, Lady Anne Hastings, is being pushed to the side, and Catherine is receiving all of the king's attentions."

"The king must know that canon law forbids any sort of close relations with his brother's wife!"

"Indeed, it is a dangerous position he puts himself in. To attract the wrath of God when his reign is so young is foolish indeed."

"But what can we be expected to do about it?" More asked.

"Thomas," Wolsey said, "Surely you must know that the king needs advisors. His father's are no longer here, and the king has no one to guide him. This is our opportunity to become very important to his majesty."

"Of course I will help his majesty in any way I can," More replied, "But your description makes the whole matter sound self-serving."

"Indeed not!" Wolsey exclaimed, "It is for the good of the whole country if the king has wise advisors by his side! At present there is no particular person aiding him politically. You are a man of the law, and I have seen my share of the world. With us by his side, King Henry could be the most successful king in Europe."

"I'm glad you're so self-confident," More remarked, "But I can hardly say the same for myself. As I've said, if the king requests my advice I will give it freely. I will not _push_ myself into his good graces."

"Suit yourself," Wolsey remarked, "Just so long as you are not against me."

"Of course not," More said stiffly.

Wolsey bowed his head slightly. "Thank you. Now, I have also come to you for your opinion on a certain matter."

"What matter is this?" More asked.

"I have a plan to take Catherine out of the mind of the king."

"All the worse for her, I regret, but perhaps it is in Henry's best interests. What is it?"

"The king has asked me to find some ladies-in-waiting for the princess."

"You're going to try to find a new mistress for the king?" More guessed.

"Exactly."

"Won't that do more harm than good?"

"No. At the same time, I will be encouraging his majesty to make a political alliance. He is hard-headed, but I think I may be able to convince him. That is, if I had your help."

"I agree with this. A political alliance is in everyone's best interests."

"As long as said alliance is not with Princess Catherine!" Wolsey remarked.

* * *

Katherine Parr was lazing about the house one cold, wintery day. She and her family had spent Christmas at Richmond Palace, at the invitation of the king, but she was happy to be away from the wild festivities of court. She rested her head against the wall as she sat in her window-seat, with a book resting on her lap. Her light brown hair fell loose around her shoulders, and she was in her most comfortable gown. How she longed to return home to Kendal, in the Lake District, where she'd grown up. It was her favourite place in the world, and there was no where else she'd rather be.

Her sister Ann interrupted her relaxation by racing into the room and leaping at her sister. "Kate, you'll never guess where we're to go! You'll never guess, so I might as well just tell you! You and I are to serve in the household of Princess Catherine of Aragon!" Ann shrieked and danced around the room.

Katherine dropped her book and watched her sister dance, her own mouth agape in dismay. "Oh, Ann, not really?"

"Of course, really! I would never joke about something this incredible!"

"Why us?" Katherine said moodily.

"Why not us?" Ann insisted, "We must have pleased someone at court, and were chosen from hundreds of girls to serve in her Grace's household! Kate, why aren't you excited?"

"I was excited to go home."

"Court will be far better!" Ann said with a shrug, "Mama says we're bound to find husbands there. Oh, I long to be married."

"Ann Parr, you're possibly the silliest girl in the country," Katherine snapped.

"I hope you find a husband, for I can hardly be expected to marry if you do not, as you are three years my senior."

Just having turned seventeen, Katherine was in no hurry to be wed. Already her family was trying to sort out a marriage for her to Edward Borough, a simple but wealthy little country boy whom Katherine had known since childhood. Katherine sincerely hoped that this would not come to be.

"In any case, we must go," Ann continued, "For mother's sake. She's worked so hard to retain our position in the country since Papa's death. It would be no help to her should we ruin it by refusing to serve Princess Catherine! Think of the good we could do for our name at court!"

"If you would stop being so silly, and be good for a change!" Katherine said, "If we must go, I will not be constantly embarrassed by you running around and making a fool of yourself, do you understand, Ann?"

"Don't be a bore, Kate!"

"Promise me, Ann!"

"Alright, I promise," Ann said resignedly, "But it shall be no fun. You always did ruin all of my fun."

"Well, someone must," Katherine said with a shrug, and then went back to her book, but could hardly focus on reading.

* * *

"How can you send me away so cruelly, Grandmother?" fifteen year old Catharine Howard demanded through her tears.

"I will have none of your tears, girl!" Catharine's step-grandmother, the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk, said firmly.

"But how can you, when I've been so happy here! Why do you subject me to your cruelty!" Catharine wailed.

"Perhaps I would be willing to keep you in my household had you not acted in such a deplorable manner! I wonder that your parents did not lock you up in childhood for shame!"

"In what way did I act deplorably?" Catharine cried.

"You have a most scandalous relationship with my secretary, Francis Dereham!"

"What do you mean?"

"You call him husband, and he calls you wife, though you are certainly not engaged, nor likely ever to be!"

"You're wrong, grandmother! The other girls tell the most terrible lies!"

"You have almost definitely visited his bed on more than one occasion!"

"You have no proof of any such thing!" Catharine cried.

"Then there was your music teacher, Henry Manox!"

"You only caught us kissing, Grandmother."

"God only know what else you did," the Dowager Duchess snapped, completely scandalized, "Terrible girl! I'm sending you away, and I care not what happens to you."

"But where am I to go?"

"I told your father of your behaviour, and he hopes to improve you. However, your father is and always was ruled by your mother, and your silly mother insisted upon sending you to court with your sisters. How your parents managed it, I shall never know, but you are to serve in the household of Princess Catherine of Aragon. I have heard that she is a moral, upright Catholic princess, and I sincerely hope that she can fix you, you obscene girl!"

"Perhaps if your standards weren't so lax, you wouldn't have ladies in your service who told you such terrible lies about me out of pure jealousy!"

The Dowager Duchess didn't stop to listen to Catharine's excuses; she stormed out of the room.

"I'm sure I shall prefer court to your boring little house!" Catharine shouted at her grandmother's chamber door, which was now closed to her.

Another of the duchess's ladies came out, and frowned at Catharine. "You ungrateful girl!" she exclaimed.

Catharine tossed her hair. "I have nothing to be grateful for." She marched away, but then turned back to say, "I am a Howard, my lady, and nothing you can say will put me to shame!" And with that bold declaration, Catharine marched to her own room to pack up her things.

* * *

The lights were aglow in the house of Cleves as a wedding party danced through the house. The glowing bride stood proudly beside her husband, looking down on the others with the superiority that was due to her on her wedding day.

John, duke of Cleves, stood, "Let us raise all raise a cup on this fine day, in honour of my beloved daughter, Sybille. May she find great happiness with her new husband, my new son, John Frederick." The duke beamed at his son-in-law, the elector of Saxony with pride. He was extremely impressed with himself for securing such a marriage for his eldest daughter; one that ensured fortune and security for her future. "To the Elector and Electress of Saxony!"

Sybille smiled as the cups were raised in her direction, and she turned the her husband. Though he was not an especially handsome man, he was an ambitious man. Sybille had ambitions but no means to achieve them. Now, through her husband, she might do just that. She turned back to the guests and stood, raising her cup along with theirs. "Thank you all," she said cordially, "And if I may make an addition to that speech, may I express my heartfelt desire that my dear sisters should have half of my good luck in finding such a husband!"

The guests turned to look to Sybille's two younger sisters, Anne and Amelia, and raised their drinks to them.

"To my daughters!" cried the duke of Cleves.

The girls' brother, William, turned to his sisters Anne and Amelia and rolled his eyes. "'To his daughters.' How quickly they forget their sons!" he remarked with a laugh.

"_We_ shall not forget you, William," Anne replied.

"I don't doubt that you shan't, Anna. It is my other sisters that I feel will someday desert me. Neither is as gentle and sweet as you are. They shall both forget me very soon, I should think."

"Don't be ridiculous," Amelia remarked, tossing her hair. Amelia was, as the youngest, the most outgoing and always striving for attention, "You are more apt to forget us."

"Me? Never!" William kissed his sisters' hands. "Now, doesn't our sister look pleased?"

"As pleased as a cat who has just caught a mouse," Amelia grinned.

"You mustn't judge her too harshly, Amelia," Anne stated, "She will be a good wife."

"When she isn't using his power to pull herself higher," Amelia shrugged.

"Jealous, are we, Amelia?"

"Now, William, you mustn't say that. Of course Amelia isn't jealous. She shall have just as fine a marriage as Sybille," Anne insisted.

"If I marry at all, and I may not," Amelia shrugged, "What about you, Anne? Will you marry?"

Anne smiled and raised her shoulder demurely. "If my father wishes it."

"You will settle for a political alliance that our father would arrange?" Amelia said incredulously.

"I cannot see myself being the object of any foreign princes' attentions. Such men want an educated wife, and I am not. I am too domestic to be any good politically. I would be satisified with a husband who would just let me play my cards and listen to my music and do needlework all day. I do not look for any elaborate lifestyle. Just the peace and quiet I've always known will suffice," Anne said.

"Then, I suppose, you will not be glad to hear that our mama has been urging our father to push you into social life, to make a good match for you. The kings of England and France are very much single," William remarked.

"Not France, William," Amelia spoke up, "He is very lately married, I think."

"England will have to do, then," William said.

"No, Will, how can you say that? Why should they want me in England? I know nothing of them, and would fail miserably as a queen. No, marry me off to a quiet duke if you must, but I will have no kings," Anne said with a teasing smile.

"However, as you said," Amelia replied, "You will do as our father commands. And if he commands you to marry the king of England?"

Anne rolled her eyes. "Then you'd better help me work on my English," she replied.


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's Note: Bonjour! Now, I like this chapter because you get a nice number of narrators, and a healthy dose of Henry's wives. Hope it won't be too hard to keep up with who is speaking at what time!! You also get a brief meeting with a historical figure who was very interesting. Diane de Poitiers was the mistress of King Henry II of France (who suceeded King Francis I). She was close to the age of Anne Boleyn, and they were in the French court at the same time. I think I would have been remiss if I didn't have a conversation between these two infamous mistresses!! If you don't know much about Diane, I would highly suggest looking her up._

**CHAPTER XII**

"And here, madam, are your rooms," Wolsey announced, leading Catherine through a door.

Catherine looked around the large room in York Place, and took note of her surroundings. "Very nice," she said, "You must tell his majesty how very grateful I am for his kindness."

"His majesty is eager to make your stay comfortable," Wolsey replied.

Catherine smiled and nodded, "When will I see his majesty again?"

"He is very busy at present. He wishes to assure you that he will attend to you as soon and as often as he is able."

"I am glad. Thank you."

Wolsey bowed slightly. "Madam, your new English ladies-in-waiting are in place, and awaiting your command."

"His majesty has been very generous, I can see," Catherine stated.

"I'm sure he could not find a more deserving recipient of his kindness."

Catherine raised her eyebrows at Wolsey. She was very curious about this strange man, who was rising so quickly at court. However, Henry seemed to trust and like him, and so Catherine felt that she must do the same.

"If you will excuse me, madam," Wolsey bowed.

"Yes, of course. Thank you," Catherine said.

Wolsey left the room. Catherine turned to look at her new servants. About a dozen girls were standing in a line before her. Catherine felt comforted by the knowledge that her own Spanish ladies still stood behind her. "Well," Catherine's voice was loud in the silent room. "I bid you all a good morning. You all know who I am, and I hope that I shall learn your names eventually." Catherine paused, trying to find something say, before continuing, "I will tell you right away that the standards for ladies in my service are very high. The king has assured me that you have been selected from the finest ladies at court. I expect you to be, at all times, respectful and dutiful. Your tasks must never be shirked, and I will not stand for procrastination. You will find that I enjoy reading and music and cards as I'm sure most of you do. As the ladies behind me have been my dearest friends since I left Spain, I hope that we shall be just as companionable." Catherine hesitated, not sure what to say to make them move away, and stop staring at her. "Well, I'm sure you all have things to do. You're dismissed." She waved her hand quickly and, to her relief, the ladies moved in their different directions.

Maria seemed to sense her mistress's uneasiness. It had been so long since the princess had had ladies, Maria didn't blame her for not knowing how to command them. Maria at once made it her mission to direct them. She sent several of them to unpack the princess's things, and the others to clean up the apartments, as they were dusty, not having had inhabitants for a good deal of time.

Ann Parr grabbed Katherine's arm as they lifted the princess's gowns out of the trunks. "Oh, isn't she elegant, Kate? They say the king is very much in love with her!"

"She does have an air of grace about her," Katherine admitted, "But I will not let a first impression set the tone for the future."

"I think we shall find her a very pleasant mistress," Ann remarked.

"I certainly agree that the princess will be the least of our worries," Katherine remarked, glancing around at the other ladies.

"What do you mean?" Ann frowned, and then looked around, "Surely the other ladies won't give us trouble?"

"Of course not, Ann. I simply meant that they might not all be to our liking, judging from their behaviour up until now."

"Who do you mean? Who has made such an ill impression on you?" Ann leaned towards her sister, eager for gossip.

"Oh, Ann, don't be so infantile. I won't gossip with you."

"You were the one who brought it up, sister, and now you must satisfy my curiousity!" Ann insisted, "Who has displeased you so?"

"I may be wrong. The characters of the other girls may be altered due to their excitement."

"Of course, I understand. You don't want to be petty and gossip. But it doesn't matter, they're all gossiping about us as well!" Ann said.

The Parr sisters began brushing off the gowns. "If you will not begin, then I will," Ann said, "I think that there are some here who we will befriend more quickly than others. Elizabeth Blount, for instance. She appears to be a very amiable girl."

"Too weak-willed for my taste," Katherine said drily, "She clearly hasn't a mind of her own."

"You're too cruel. What of Anne Hastings? For her position, she's most modest."

"For her position as the king's prostitute? I suppose she wouldn't want to brag about her position, but I'd hardly call her modest."

"Well, I hear that affair is coming to an end rather quickly," Ann stated, "I have been told that while she still visits the king's bed on occasion, she rarely spends the night, but is always sent away."

"So he tires of her," Katherine said, glancing at Anne Hastings, "It is always inevitable, you know, Ann. It isn't worth the trouble; no sooner have you gotten the king's favour than you've fallen out of it again."

"I think some would disagree," Ann replied, "Lady Anne has been given a great deal of precedence over the other ladies at court. Only the arrival of Princess Catherine brought that to a head."

"If he has fallen in love with the princess, let us all pray that his obsession with meaningless affairs ends. Were he to make the princess his queen, she would never stand for it."

"In any case, I have heard rumours that King Henry has taken a new mistress, and placed her among Princess Catherine's ladies. She could be in this room at this very minute."

"Another one, besides Lady Anne?" Upon receiving an affirmative nod from Ann, Katherine shook her head and continued, "Then I wonder how long Lady Anne will be with us. It cannot be long; the king will want to make room for his new favourite."

"Who do you suppose she is?" Ann asked eagerly, glancing around, "Do you suppose it's that Shelton girl, the poet? Mary or Madge or something, whatever her name is. She's unassuming enough, but perhaps that's the kind the king likes!"

"I'm more likely to believe it's one of the Howard girls. The Howards are sneaky, unsavoury people. Certainly not above pushing a girl into the king's bed for their own benefit."

"I suppose we shall know soon. His majesty certainly isn't very subtle with his affairs," Ann said.

* * *

Margaret 'Madge' Shelton observed the happenings of the household with interest. In the two weeks that Princess Catherine had set up her household at court, it had drawn a lot of attention. The king and his friends were often seen entering the princess's chambers, to entertain themselves with her highness, as well as her numerous ladies-in-waiting.

This night was no different. The king's musicians had followed him in, and played gentle background music to give the room a festive feeling. The gentlemen who had accompanied the king into the princess's rooms were thoroughly enjoying themselves with food and drink and conversation with the pretty girls. The king himself sat beside Princess Catherine, and talked to her fondly and exclusively.

The absense of Lady Anne Hastings did not go unnoticed. Only the previous day, Lady Anne had quitted Princess Catherine's household. It was now certain that her husband was to send her away to a convent. William Compton, now Sir William, was not pleased with this turn of events. Everyone now wondered who the king's new mistress would be.

"Madge, come play a set with us," Catharine Howard called.

Madge smiled at Sir Henry Norris, who sat beside her, and excused herself. She hurried to sit at Catharine's side. The two were distantly related, and shared a companionship. They both had sisters at court, and they were both the younger. They shared a fondness for music and dancing. Neither of them took anything too seriously.

"I have seen you talking incessantly to Sir Henry," Catharine said teasingly, hiding her sly smile behind her cards, "Has he stated his intentions towards you?"

"Not at all," Madge said with a shrug, "He is shy."

"He will miss out on a great opportunity," Catharine said confidently, "Timidity does not befit a man. For a woman, on the other hand, it is acceptable if not necessary, in order to retain a general good opinion. I suppose that's why everyone thinks ill of us!"

"That is your fault," Madge laughed, "I should be more timid if I were not always with you!"

"Ladies, pray do not neglect our game by replacing it with your own conversation," Sir Francis Weston exclaimed, "Or we simple gentlemen will have no choice but to be quite offended!"

"Don't be offended, Sir Francis; of what do you suppose we were talking, if not of you 'simple gentlemen,'" Catharine remarked, tilting her head seductively.

"You are merciless, Lady Catharine," Sir Francis grinned.

"Indeed, she is not!" Madge spoke up, smiling widely, "It is you gentlemen with your ceaseless attentions that show Cathy no mercy."

"If any of us were to cease for a moment," William Brereton spoke up, "Another would take our place all too quickly."

"In that case," Cathy remarked, "I suppose I will have to _endure_ your attentions."

"If there's any way we can relieve your suffering," Sir Francis smiled alluringly, "You'll have to make it known to us."

Catharine raised her shoulder gracefully. "I'll certainly let you know, Sir Francis," she said softly and mischieviously.

* * *

Queen Mary of France sat outside of her husband's chambers, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Behind those doors, her husband of only a few months was gravely ill. Mary clasped her hands tighter and prayed, but not, as everyone believed, for his life.

It was easy to play the part of the doting wife; all too easy, Mary found. Her silence was mistaken for obedience; her soft-spoken words were mistaken for care; her long-suffering patience in her husband's bed was mistaken for love.

Everyone was mistaken. No one understood her pain. Mary prayed fervently for her own freedom. There was nothing in the world she wanted more than to be released from her matrimonial prison; to go back home.

But 'home' wasn't safe either. As soon as Louis was dead, Henry would be planning another marriage for Mary. Charles would never stand up to Henry. No, if Mary wanted to be happy, she would have to take control of her own life.

Some gentlemen moved slowly out of the king's chambers. One of them, the surgeon, turned to Mary and bowed his head. "Your majesty," he said regretfully, "His majesty has departed this life."

Mary crossed herself slowly. "May he rest in peace," she said dully, "He was ever a good husband to me."

"Madam, though you must be very greived at this time, I have been told to ask-" the physician paused awkwardly, before blurting out, "Could you possibly be carrying the late king's son?"

Mary looked at the physician gravely. "It is impossible, I'm afraid. The king, of course, has been ill for some time and has not been able to attempt producing an heir. Besides that, my monthly courses are normal. As you see, it is quite impossible."

The physician nodded and bowed, "My deepest regrets, your majesty."

"Thank you," Mary said. She looked into her late husband's chambers. She walked in slowly, and stood by the bed. She looked at her dead husband curiously. In life, she had never taken the time to really look at him; all of her time was spent avoiding him. Now, she examined him closely. He had possibly been attractive in his youth; his face still held a little allure. He was small and frail; Mary had always feared he would break everytime he moved.

Mary knelt by the bed, and looked at his face. "Perhaps, in a different time, I might have learned to love you, or at the very least respect you," she admitted in a whisper, "I fear we were both victims of circumstance. You were unable to have an heir to suit you, and I am unable to have a husband to suit me. In any case, Louis, I do not resent you. Rest in peace." Mary stood, and left the room, without looking back.

* * *

For a long time, it was uncertain as to what Mary would do. Should the Dowager Queen of France remain in her adopted country, as the Dowager Princess Catherine of Wales had done? Or should she be allowed to return to England, in hopes that another marriage could be arranged for her?

The new king of France, Francis, didn't especially care what was done with her. Stay or go, she didn't worry him. His wife, Claude, was less eager to have her stay. Claude felt that her own position as queen of France was threatened by the dowager queen. Finally, after Mary sent her brother a letter begging him to allow her to return home, Henry sent word that he would send a company to escort her back to England.

Mary was not sorry to pack up her belongings and leave. The French customs had never impressed her, and she was glad to be rid of them. Several of her ladies-in-waiting who had pleased her would be returning with her to England. But not all.

Mary watched as the ladies-in-waiting packed her belongings. She glanced at all of her ladies, counting the ones who would return with her to England, and those who wouldn't. Her eyes settled on one.

Mary had no great fondness for Mistress Anne Boleyn. Mary felt that the girl was cocky, and proud. She and her sister pranced around court as though they owned it. While Anne had stayed in Queen Mary's service, her sister Mary Boleyn had gone to serve in then-Princess Claude's household. Anne had spent a great deal of her free time there, and undoubtedly exposed herself to negative French influences.

Mary raised herself from her chair and moved in a roundabout way towards her maid. "Mistress Anne," Mary said.

Anne curtisied low, and raised herself up gracefully. "Your majesty," she said simply.

"Will you and your family be returning to England?" Mary asked.

"Not anytime soon, your majesty," Anne stated, "My father still has business to attend to, on behalf of his majesty King Henry."

"Well," Mary said with a shrug, "I suppose France is the place for you after all. You've made yourself quite at home here."

Anne's dark eyes smarted, but her face stayed calm. "England will always be my home," she said, "Though I have learned to love France. Your majesty does not share my affection for anything French, I believe. I hope your majesty finds more happiness in England."

Mary frowned disapprovingly. The girl was clearly challenging her, by throwing Mary's own unhappiness in her face. How did she always seem to perceive what Mary was thinking, and know exactly what to say to subtly insult her? Mary turned away without another word. The girl was sly, without a doubt.

Anne turned back to the gown she was packing, and thought, "But with a sour attitude like yours, you'll be lucky to find happiness anywhere!" The queen had always picked on Anne, and Anne wasn't sure why. What had she ever done to deserve such unfair treatment?

As soon as Anne was able, she left the dowager queen's chambers for a more pleasant setting. One of Anne's favourite places to visit was the household of Marguerite d'Angoulême, the new king's sister. Many of the young girls congregated there. The other two main households at court- dowager Queen Mary's and Queen Claude's- were not half so amusing as Marguerite's was. Marguerite was a revolutionary woman; an author, a patroness of the arts, a scholar. The young girls at court were enamoured by her.

Marguerite caught sight of Anne as she entered. "Ah, our other Boleyn beauty has arrived!" She moved to Anne's side, and kissed her fondly on the cheek. Marguerite had grown very fond of the Boleyn girls, who were constant fixtures in her chambers. Mary was the prettier, and sweeter, while Anne was more intelligent and witty. Together, they delighted Marguerite. "Your sister Mary is here already, and amusing us of course. Join our party, Anne!"

Anne took her regular seat. As Marguerite had stated, Mary was the center of attention. She took in the attentions of the people around her with gentle enthusiasm. One could not help but love her.

"Your sister has delighted everyone, I see," the lady seated beside Anne stated.

Anne recognized the lady as Diane de Poitiers, a courtier only a few years older than herself. Anne shrugged. "Mary has charmed the king, and in doing so, has charmed the court."

"Of course. In gaining the king's good opinion, no one else can think ill of her- except for the queen, of course," Diane remarked.

Anne nodded. "The queen is with child, again. She must know the king takes mistresses while she is in such a delicate condition."

"But that knowledge cannot bring her relief for the pain she must feel," Diane said, "But that is no more your sister's fault than it is the queen's."

"Mary's just too foolish," Anne said with a sigh. "She doesn't see what is happening around her. She doesn't know what people say about her."

"I think she knows," Diane said gently, "She knows, but she has to ignore it. She must press on."

"While the king is delighted with her, the court will be," Anne remarked, watching her sister closely, "As soon as he forgets her, they will forget to be kind to her face."

Diane nodded. "History will never be kind to the mistress of a married man. The sympathy will always rest with the wife, no matter what the mistress endures."

"That is why it is better to avoid the situation entirely," Anne said, exasperated.

"Better, perhaps," Diane agreed with a smile, "But not necessarily easier. It is far too easy for a girl to be caught up by the attentions of an attractive man, especially if that man is a king."

"Still," Anne insisted, "It isn't worth being called 'The Great Prostitute', just for the privledge of receiving the king's attentions."

"Girls have put up with much worse for a king's attentions, and many more will endure even worse," Diane replied, "It is the lot of a woman courtier."

"Not us, surely," Anne said confidently.

Diane nodded sympathetically. "Let us certainly hope not."

* * *

Charles Brandon entered the king's chambers to find Henry reading by the fire. Upon seeing his friend enter, Henry immediately snapped his book shut, and stood to meet his friend. "Charles," he said, "I'm glad you've come. I have an important task for you."

"I'm always happy to oblige your majesty," Charles replied.

Henry grinned. "I'm sending you back to France, to bring my sister Queen Mary home."

"So Mary is returning to England?"

"Yes, we've finally decided. She will be happier in England, and it will be easier for me to arrange another marriage."

"You have decided that she will marry again, for political purposes?" Charles remarked, trying to hide his emotions.

Henry raised his eyebrows at his friend. "Yes," he replied, "You know very well, Charles, that Mary is the kingdom's only hope for a political marriage. Besides myself, of course, but that can wait."

"I heard something of an agreement; that Queen Mary would be able to decide for herself who to marry upon King Louis's death," Charles said, "Is there any truth to that?"

"She did ask such a thing of me," Henry admitted, "But I made no promises. I will judge the situation upon her arrival."

"Of course, your majesty," Charles bowed his head.

"Now Charles," Henry said as Charles turned to leave. Charles looked back at the king, "I must impart to you a piece of advice that you yourself gave to me, when I, many years ago, went to escort a princess on a journey."

"Yes, Harry? What is it?" Charles frowned.

Henry put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Don't fall in love with her, Charles."

Charles managed a scoff. "Harry, you know I don't fall in love."

"I know," Henry said sternly, "That's one of the reasons I'm telling you this. If you develop feelings for her, not only will you eventually break my sister's heart, but any hopes to marry her to another will be lost. Do I have your promise, Charles?"

Charles paused. "I promise I won't fall in love with her on this trip," he said carefully.

"Good man," Henry said, "I wish you to go within the week. Bring her home in one piece."

"I will," Charles said, and hastily left the room.


	13. Chapter 13

_Author's Note: Welcome back! Thanks for all of the kind reviews of my last chapter. I'm glad you enjoyed it. If not, hopefully this one will appeal to you more. I suppose this is a comparatively short chapter, but there is some action in it that I am especially proud of. So, please, read and review and as always enjoy!_

**CHAPTER XIII**

Catherine looked up from her place by the fire. As was usual, there were several gentlemen in her chambers, enjoying conversation and games with her ladies. Catherine had had to give them all a stern lecture on how to behave with gentlemen, in her presence at least. Not all of them obeyed. Catherine had told them to be gentle and dignified; some found it necessary to flirt openly and loudly. Catherine had warned them about loose morality. Some outright ignored her.

Two such people were Catharine Howard and Margaret Shelton. Catharine was a bold flirt, who cared for little else. Maria had told the princess that she saw Catharine actually smile and speak to a man at Mass. The shameless display of wicked behaviour did not impress Catherine, and she'd had to address the two girls a few times. However, Margaret was efficient, and Catharine was loyal. That was what really mattered, Catherine supposed.

Catherine leaned towards Maria and asked in quiet Spanish, "Where is his majesty today?"

"The king is hunting today, my lady," Maria said, "He will not be back until later."

"And last night?" Catherine said, "He disappeared after supper."

"As did Mistress Elizabeth Blount, my lady," Maria remarked.

Catherine turned her eyes towards Bessie, who sat with Ann Parr by the window. "Bessie Blount?" she repeated.

"Indeed, my lady," Maria said, "The king has openly paid her specific attentions, and at night her own bed is empty."

"How long?" Catherine asked.

"Since just after we arrived."

"Not quite a month, then," Catherine said, "Does he show any sign of tiring?"

"None, my lady, but as you've said, it hasn't been very long. He will tire of her soon."

Catherine nodded, but couldn't shake an uneasy feeling. "You will make sure that an invitation asking him to join in the amusement in my household is sent to his majesty regularly."

"Of course, my lady."

"And see what we can do about Mistress Blount," Catherine stated, "Keep her busy."

"As you wish," Maria said.

"Your highness," Sir Anthony Knivert said, bowing as he approached her, "There is a seat available to you at our card table, if you will join us?"

Catherine smiled. "Thank you, Sir Anthony," she responded, "I think I shall." Catherine moved to the table and sat with Sir Anthony, as his partner. She looked across the table to see Sir William Compton and his partner, Bessie Blount.

"Well, Mistress Blount," Catherine greeted her, "Let's play."

* * *

Charles Brandon was led into the French court, with a small entourage following behind him. He looked impatiently ahead. He found himself strangely eager to see Mary. In all of this time apart, never once had he admitted, even to himself, the true depth of his feelings for Mary; his heartfelt desire to see her and be near her was a strange thing for him.

Finally he was led into a room, at the end of which he saw three people standing out from the crowd. Charles knew them immediately. The man was the new king of France, Francis, and the woman on his right was Queen Claude. The woman on the king's left side was the one who drew Charles's attention. He frowned at the sight of her. It was Mary, without a doubt, but she was so changed. She hadn't been in France for very long; how had that time managed to alter her so much? She stood, impeccably dressed, beside the other monarchs. Her head was held high, and her face held little emotion.

"The Duke of Suffolk," Charles heard himself being announced. He bowed low before the monarchs.

"You are very welcome here," the king said, "Though you are taking our beloved dowager Queen Mary away from us."

Queen Claude looked at her husband with a trace of a frown on her face. Mary simply raised an eyebrow and continued to watch Charles. He risked a glance up at her to find her eyes cold and yet entreating. Charles supposed she must be very unhappy in France.

"His majesty King Henry is very eager to have his sister home in England, and urges me to hasten our journey," Charles said, looking at Mary. A small smirk rose to her lips, but the rest of her face remained emotionless.

"Of course," the king replied, "But you must not hurry away. Enjoy our court; indeed, compare it to England's. King Henry and I are both new monarchs, and you must tell me whose court is more- advanced, will we say?"

Charles bowed his head appeasingly. "Your majesty must know I cannot speak against my king."

Francis took this as a compliment, and laughed aloud. "We have ordered a fine dinner to welcome the English to our court. You will join us, of course, in the banquet hall." Francis stepped forward and nodded his head at Charles. Claude stepped to her husband's side, and they walked away together.

Charles kept his head bowed until they left, and then he looked up at Mary. Mary was still watching him closely. Charles bowed again. Mary stepped towards him. "Your Grace," she said quietly, "It's been a long time."

"I hope your majesty has enjoyed your time in the French court," Charles said softly, "But you will not be here much longer."

Mary scoffed faintly, "You've come to rescue me, have you, Charles?"

"How can you be angry with me, Mary?" Charles asked quietly, "You haven't even seen me for months!"

"And yet you have to ask why I am angry with you," Mary snapped under her breath. Mary walked around him, with her ladies-in-waiting following quickly behind her. Charles sighed. This would be a far more difficult trip than he'd expected.

The banquet was a similar affair to their meeting. Mary sat with King Francis and Queen Claude, while Charles sat with other English dignitaries. Charles watched Mary the whole time. Her unhappiness was obvious, and Charles wondered what he could do to end it. He knew what she had wanted from him a few months previously; what if her wishes had changed since then? She'd undoubtedly been angry with him the whole time.

Charles barely heard the words of the gentlemen beside him, who was trying to make conversation. "I'm sorry, sir," Charles excused himself quickly, prying his eyes away from Mary, "I was distracted. Pray, what were we discussing?"

"King Henry, of course, your Grace," the other man replied, "I only observed that you must be on very good terms with his majesty, as you are only lately made Duke of Suffolk."

"Yes," Charles replied, "His majesty and I are good friends."

"Undoubtedly," the gentleman agreed, "I served first in his father's court, and now I am most delighted to serve the new king. When my work here is finished, I plan to return with my family to England, to live there indefinitely."

"Indeed?" Charles forced interest, "Perhaps we met in England when you were last there. Pray, what is your name?"

"It is unlikely, your Grace, as I have not been in England for many years. My name is Boleyn, Sir Thomas Boleyn," the gentleman answered.

"I have not heard your name," Charles admitted, "But now I am glad to learn it. Do you have a large family here with you in France?"

"Not very, your Grace. A son and two daughters. My son returns to England with the party accompanying the dowager queen, while I remain here. My daughters are here dancing now. If you look, you will see them, sir; my eldest, Mary, is dancing with his majesty. My youngest, Anne, stands there with dowager Queen Mary."

"Sir, your daughters are beautiful, and undoubtedly do you credit. You must be very proud of them."

"I believe I saw your Grace admiring the dowager queen's fair ladies-in-waiting earlier this evening, when his majesty asked what you thought of them. Perhaps you would care to honour one of my daughters with the next dance?" Sir Thomas smiled disarmingly.

"The pleasure would be all mine," Charles said unenthusiastically.

As Sir Thomas hurried over to his daughter, Charles stood to wait to be joined by them. It was just a dance, of course; perhaps Mary would be made jealous by the sight of Charles dancing with a pretty maid.

Charles raised his eyebrows when Sir Thomas led his dark-haired daughter towards him. "Your Grace, my daughter Anne," Sir Thomas said.

"Your Grace," Anne said, curtsying low.

"Madam," Charles replied with a bow.

"Well, as you can see, the next dance is starting, and I am needed elsewhere. Enjoy yourselves," Sir Thomas said.

Charles held out his hand, and Anne took it. Anne nodded and smiled at everyone she passed, exchanging quick French remarks that Charles had trouble understanding, though he spoke French tolerably well. Charles examined his partner as they began to dance. Anne was young and graceful, with remarkable dark hair and eyes. Her face had a very appealing quality, and her popularity among the courtiers was certainly derived not only from this attractiveness, but her vivacity of spirit.

At the same time, Anne's dark eyes appraised her partner. He was handsome, though obviously not in a good mood. Anne had learned well how to draw out conversation from an unwilling partner, and said to him, "How do you find France, your Grace?"

"Very foreign, I should say," Charles remarked. He glanced at Mary, whose eyes were shooting daggers at the sight of him with Anne Boleyn. "I can't say that I'm very fond of it."

"That is a pity," Anne replied, "Should your stay be longer, I think you would grow very fond of it."

Charles tore his eyes from Mary's and watched Anne. Finally having his full attention, she wore a satisfied little smile that amused him to see. Charles was no stranger to the art of flirting, and knew that admiring this maid could do little harm. "If there are girls here pretty as you, I cannot see how I would dislike it."

Anne laughed. "You flatter me, your Grace, but I cannot help but wonder if you actually mean it."

"Madam, you insult me," Charles grinned at her, "I am most indebted to your father for introducing us."

"No, I cannot believe it," Anne stated, "I'm sure your Grace has met many fathers and their beloved daughters."

"You suspect your father of attempting to force you into my good graces?" Charles asked her teasingly.

"Never, your Grace," Anne answered, "And if I had such a suspicion, I should never tell you, lest I lose your flattering attentions."

"You shall not quickly lose those, Mistress Boleyn."

Anne smiled as she whirled around him. "As I say, it is a shame you have not taken a fancy to France. I have learned a great deal here."

"Such as?" Charles prompted.

"Besides the common things, like language, music, art and literature, I have learned many important things, such as the price of morality."

"Mistress Anne," Charles said, "You have piqued my curiosity. Pray, what is the price of morality?"

Anne smirked and curtsied as the dance came to an end. "I will only say, your Grace, that it is far less than the price of immorality," she answered.

Charles chuckled at this answer, and kissed her hand. Anne curtsied and laughed. "It has been a privilege, your Grace," she said softly. She turned away and walked back to stand by Mary, only once looking back to make sure Charles was still watching.

Mary glared at Anne as the girl returned. Anne avoided the angry queen's eyes, and stood with the other ladies-in-waiting. Mary turned her wrathful glance at Charles. Charles's eyes flicked away from Anne and back to Mary. He bowed slightly at her, and then returned to his seat.

* * *

Sir John Seymour stormed into his house, throwing his hat upon a table. He'd just returned from London, having been attending to business there. His son Thomas followed his father into the house, but seemed not upset, but amused by his father's displeasure. "Margery!" he called, walking through the house purposefully, "Woman, where are you?"

"In here, John," his wife called from within her sitting room, where she and her younger daughters Dorothy and Margery sat.

Sir John burst into the sitting room. "You wouldn't believe it, Margery. You simply would not believe it." Thomas followed his father into the room meekly.

"I'm sure I would not," Lady Margery said simply, "So perhaps you had better simply tell me what the matter is. Did you not find London well?"

"Oh very well indeed!" Sir John ranted, "The court is as lively as ever. With the new princess there, everyone seems eager to be celebratory all of the time."

"Then what is the issue, John?"

"The issue, my dear, is Princess Catherine's ladies-in-waiting!" Sir John announced.

"What is the matter with them?"

"It is who they are! Do you know there are seven Howards among them- seven! King Henry has shown a preference to the Howards over the Seymours which cannot be borne!"

"Indeed!" Lady Margery said, "Why should he have so many Howards, and not a Seymour among them? How insulting. What will you do about it, John?"

"I will simply have to throw one, or all, of our girls in the king's way. Take them to court next I go, and show them to him. If I play my cards right, he will not be able to avoid taking at least one of them."

"Take Jane and Elizabeth," Lady Margery advised, "Dorothy and little Margery are far too young for court. I am even unsure about Elizabeth, who is yet very young. Jane is seventeen now, and can go, and then you must take Elizabeth to keep her company."

"Of course," Sir John said, "In any case, I will send Thomas with them. Edward is there already. Yes, I will take the elder children, so that you may still have the younger four to yourself," Sir John collapsed into a chair and sighed, "What would make his majesty show us so little favour?"

"Perhaps it is the old scandal, with Edward's wife Catherine," Thomas remarked, looking at his father slyly.

"Thomas, it is no such thing, and you need not bring that up!" Sir John snapped. He did not like to be reminded of the scandalous affair that he himself had had with his son's wife, that caused the annulment of Edward's marriage to Catherine Fillol. Catherine had landed in a convent, and the Seymour family's already less than desirable standing in society was reduced even more. "Where are the girls?" Sir John asked, eager to change the subject.

"Out walking, I expect," Lady Margery responded.

"Well, prepare them," Sir John commanded, "They are to be ready to go to court while my invitation there still stands."


	14. Chapter 14

_Author's Note: Hello everyone! For the last day of January (February already?!) I've got another chapter for you. I really like this chapter (surprise, surprise). It contains one of my favourite Henry-Catherine interactions. I think we often forget that Henry and Arthur were _brothers_, and this has serious implications even if they weren't especially close. Also, Henry's getting a little more involved with the other wives. Yay!!! Enjoy, and don't forget to review!_

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* * *

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**CHAPTER XIV**

It was late when Charles wearily returned to his chambers. The night had been filled with music and dancing and conversation and games, and Charles was understandably tired. What he felt more than physical fatigue, however, was the exhaustion of his spirits. Every time he saw Mary, he was met with an unfriendly glare. He couldn't understand why she was angry at him; there wasn't anything he could do to change the past. He knew he was acting distant, but what did she expect? Her brother would murder him if he knew about them.

There was someone in his chambers when he entered, facing the window. She was a black silhouette, but he knew with certainty who it was. Mary turned when she heard him enter. "Your Grace," she said softly.

"Your majesty," Charles said, bowing slightly.

Mary stepped towards him, her face not disclosing her emotions. "I couldn't help but notice that your Grace enjoyed tonight's festivities a great deal."

"Is that what you're here to talk to me about?" Charles demanded, stepping closer.

Mary moved back. "I noticed that you danced often. The Boleyn girls were your companions very often. The king, I believe, suggested you dance with Mary, and Sir Thomas Boleyn recommended his younger daughter, Anne, who you danced with several times."

"Twice with Mistress Anne," Charles clarified, "Once with Mistress Mary."

"Do you know what they call Mistress Mary?" The dowager queen asked, moving closer, her eyes smarting with hurt and anger, "They call her the Great Prostitute. And her sister can be no different. I was surprised not to find one or both of them here when I arrived."

Charles reached forward and took hold of her hand, pulling her closer, "Did you come to attack the Boleyns," he said chidingly, and then his tone softened, "Or did you come because you've missed me?" Charles had had no plans to try to continue his relationship with Mary before he entered his room that night. He knew the dangers, and the consequences. However, when he saw Mary standing alone in his bedroom, fuming with jealousy and rage, he couldn't help but want her.

"I haven't missed you," she said, glaring up at him, "I've been busy. I was a wife and a queen. I've been busy."

"Of course," Charles murmured, brushing her neck with his fingertips, "But surely you've thought about me a little?"

"Not at all," Mary snapped.

"Not when the king was too ill to have you in his bed?" Charles said, pressing her lips with his thumb, "Not late at night, when you're all alone-"

"Stop it Charles," Mary said quickly.

"And do you think about me now?" Charles insisted, "Now that I'm here, here to take you away from it all. Do you want me now?"

Mary reached up and pulled his hand away from her face. She looked up at him, the anger gone from her eyes, leaving them sad. She squeezed his hand and said, "I gave myself to you once; heart, body and mind. I would gladly do it again, but not until you give me what I desire most."

"What can I give you?" Charles asked.

Mary kissed his hand. "You will marry me."

Charles was dismayed. He sighed. "Mary, you can't be serious."

"You will marry me," she repeated, "And you will want to marry me."

"But how-"

Mary silenced him with a hand. "You will want to- desperately want to. Don't worry, Charles, it will all work out." She dropped his hand and moved around him, out the door.

Charles followed her, and from his door, watched her walk down the corridor. He turned his head away and sighed and as he did, saw a small group of girls standing at the opposite end of the corridor. He recognized a few, but two in particular; he saw the blue wide-eyed stare of Mary Boleyn, and the delicately arched dark eyebrow of her sister Anne.

* * *

"Your highness, may I present you with two new ladies-in-waiting, Ladies Jane and Elizabeth Seymour," Maria de Salinas said.

Catherine smiled gently at the two girls who curtsied at her feet. "Lady Jane," she said, "Lady Elizabeth. I am pleased to have you. You are most welcome."

"Thank you, your highness," the girls said.

Catherine nodded at Maria, who led the Seymour sisters away.

Catharine Howard was fixing the sheets on the princess's bed. "Seymours," she muttered to Madge, "How I do hate a Seymour!"

"Why are they here?" Madge asked, "After the shame their father brought to the family!"

"I suppose his majesty has forgotten," Catharine said, "My uncle Norfolk speaks often of the grasping Seymours. Sir John and his family are possibly the worst of them all."

"Indeed!" Madge agreed.

"Look at them!" Catharine muttered scornfully, "See how lost and confused the blonde one looks. They will never last long here. Hopefully they shall find husbands quickly and be gone from court."

Across the room, Princess Catherine motioned to Maria. "What do we know of the Seymours?"

"Their father is a gentleman, Sir John, who has recently lost a bit of his respectability. The girls have fine reputations, though they are uneducated."

"Will we get trouble from them?"

"Not likely," Maria shook her head, "As you know, of course, Mistress Blount still accompanies the king to bed. He does not show signs of tiring just yet."

Catherine nodded. "Well, go send them about their duties."

Maria curtsied and returned to the Seymours.

At this moment, Lady Frances Howard entered the room. "His majesty to see your highness."

Catherine raised to her feet instantly. Her ladies stopped what they were doing and curtsied as Henry entered with Sir Anthony Knivert and Sir William Compton on his heels. Henry bowed his head. "Princess Catherine," he said.

"Your majesty," Catherine responded.

"I come to see if your highness will take the air with me," Henry said, "My horse is in need of riding, and I am in need of the companionship of a gentle lady such as yourself."

"Thank you, my lord, I should love to," Catherine said.

"I will give you half an hour to prepare yourself," Henry responded, and then left with the gentlemen following behind him.

"Princess Catherine has some new ladies," Sir Anthony remarked as they walked away from the princess's chambers.

"More fun for us!" Sir William responded.

Henry laughed. "I did not notice them."

"Henry, it is not like you!" Sir William exclaimed.

"Perhaps her highness is distraction from any other lady?" Sir Anthony smiled.

Henry raised his eyebrows at his friend, then smirked, "What do you mean, Anthony?"

"Never mind him, my lord," Sir William chimed in, "He only tries to marry us all off, so that he might have all the ladies to himself!"

"Indeed not!" Sir Anthony laughed.

"What do you think of Princess Catherine?" Henry asked, turning to face them.

Sir William was bewildered by the question, while Sir Anthony was not so surprised. "She is a very amiable princess," Sir Anthony said.

"Beautiful, indeed," Sir William jumped in.

"Educated and graceful," Sir Anthony continued, "Everything she ought to be."

"And what of her claims, about the legitimacy of her former marriage?" Henry pressed, "Should I believe her?"

His friends frowned. "Only she and God can know for sure," Sir Anthony said carefully.

"How much can you trust a woman?" Sir William said, more cynically.

Henry sighed, and continued walking. He wished that Charles would hurry and return from France. Henry could always get a straight answer from Charles.

* * *

An hour later, Henry and Catherine were riding across the countryside. Henry glanced at Catherine. She was a good horsewoman; graceful, and she could keep up with him tolerably well. Her complexion was brightened with the activity, and she smiled and laughed with Henry.

Soon, he brought his horse to a rest at the top of a hill. Catherine rode up beside him. "I believe your riding improves with each outing, Catalina," Henry remarked.

Catherine smiled, "I get better, under your tutelage."

Henry laughed. "You flatter me, but I don't think I can take all the credit. Were you not a fine horsewoman before you arrived in England?"

"It is a tragedy how much one can forget in years of inactivity."

"You did not often ride?"

"When I was under such constant watch, majesty, I was not often allowed."

"Watch?" Henry frowned, "By whom?"

Catherine sighed, "Mostly by my duenna," she replied. Her head tilted down, and her eyes were downcast, "I was betrayed by her, and I regret the power she had over me."

Henry rode close, and lifted her chin with his hand. "You will never be betrayed again," he promised her.

Catherine smiled. Henry returned the smile. Catherine looked away modestly. "Majesty?" she said.

"Highness," he responded.

"I only wondered- if you ever heard from my father, King Ferdinand? Does he make any attempt to intervene in my situation?"

"What situation is that?" Henry asked, "Are you not being treated well?"

"No, majesty!" Catherine exclaimed, "You have been kinder to me than anyone ever has. I only mean that- I am young still, and unmarried. Does my father attempt to change that?"

Henry leaned away from her and shook his head. "Your marriage to my brother is still under scrutiny," he said, "You know that, I know that, and your father knows that. Until we are sure it was never consummated-"

"I told you it wasn't," Catherine said, her voice suddenly firm.

Henry frowned at her. "I know," he said, his tone becoming temperamental, "Forgive me if we need more than your word on the matter."

"Who is we?" Catherine asked, "You and your advisors? Wolsey, I suppose?"

"That's enough," Henry said, "I have told you, the situation is being considered. In the time being, you are treated well. Do not make me regret it."

Catherine was startled, but not intimidated, "I have sworn to you, on my life, that I was never truly married to Arthur."

"You were married," Henry snapped, losing his temper, "Bound by God in holy matrimony. Do you think I've forgotten the reports of you going to his bed, and his going to yours? Do you think I could forget that you went to Wales as my brother's wife?!"

"The reports were false!" Catherine insisted, "And I went to Wales as though I were his sister!"

"But you were not his sister, madam. You were his wife! And now that he is dead you look to secure yourself again. I understand your desire for a husband, but Catherine, I am not him! At least not anytime soon." Henry turned his horse.

"Harry-!" Catherine exclaimed.

"He was my brother," Henry snapped, "The boy we wish to forget was my _brother_. So while you may succeed, I cannot forget him. He is above me everyday, and I must live with him and with myself." Henry spurred his horse onward, and rode away.

"Henry!" Catherine cried, "Majesty!" Catherine tightened her fist in consternation.

* * *

That night, in her chambers, Catherine spoke with Maria. "I was so close," she said remorsefully, "The way he looked at me, Maria! I knew he was softening towards me." Catherine buried her face in her hand, and her voice shook, "But I pushed it too far. I took for granted his affection and I demanded too much too quickly. After months of gentle prodding, in one afternoon I can push it over the edge!"

"Surely you can recover yourself after this?" Maria said soothingly.

"I don't know," Catherine said with a shake of her head, "The king has his tempers, but he does not often forget a grudge. Should I lose his favour, I cannot think what would become of me!"

"My lady, be calm," Maria urged.

Then, they heard the king's voice as, from the outer room of Catherine's chambers, he announced, "These men and I have come to enjoy the company of Princess Catherine and her ladies. Please, let Princess Catherine know this."

A few moments later, Lady Elizabeth Fitzwalter entered Catherine's sleeping chambers and said, "His majesty is here, my lady."

Catherine was already straightening her hair and dress as her musician began to play in the other room. "I will be out directly."

Lady Fitzwalter bowed and left.

"Maria, go," Catherine ordered, "I will follow."

Maria bowed and left as well.

Catherine cleared her throat and, after folding her hands neatly before her, went out to meet the king.

The king and nobles bowed to Catherine as she entered, and she bowed her head to all. King Henry went towards her. "Princess Catherine," he said.

"Your majesty," Catherine replied.

As the nobles went about their own matters, Henry said, "Catalina, you must forgive me for leaving you so rudely."

"There is nothing to forgive," Catherine replied.

Henry smiled and kissed her hand. "Now that we are again on good terms," he said, "You will perhaps join me in a game of cards?"

"I would be honoured, majesty," Catherine agreed.

Henry and Catherine sat down to play cards. As they played, Henry looked around the room at the ladies and nobles. "The daughters of Sir John Seymour have recently been added to your service, haven't they?" Henry remarked after awhile.

Catherine looked up at him sharply, but then looked demurely back at her cards. "Oh yes. The ladies Jane and Elizabeth Seymour."

"Which are they?" Henry asked casually.

"Lady Elizabeth sits there, with Sir Francis," Catherine motioned, "And Lady Jane is at the other end of the room."

Henry glanced at the sisters, one at a time. Lady Elizabeth was a dark haired girl. She had a pretty face, but no especial beauty. Lady Jane looked a bit like her, but with golden blonde hair and a prettier face by far.

"I see," Henry said, "Lady Jane sits alone."

"She is a quiet girl. I have thus far noticed that her own thoughts can amuse her for hours, and she needs no outside stimulation," Catherine answered.

"Nevertheless, she ought to join in the revelries of your fine household," Henry said, "As she is your lady, it is her duty."

Catherine gave him a sideways glance.

"If your highness will excuse me, I will take it upon myself to remind her of that."

"Majesty, it is not necessary-" Catherine began, but Henry was already on his feet. As Catherine watched in hidden dismay, the king crossed the room and moved towards Lady Jane.

Jane hardly seemed to notice him approach. Henry observed this with amusement, and bowed before her. "Lady Jane? May I sit with you?"

Jane looked up, and seemed startled to see the king standing before her. She scrambled to her feet. "Majesty," she said quickly, "Yes, please. That is- do."

Henry smiled and sat, urging Jane to sit beside him. "Now, will you share with me whatever thoughts kept you so occupied in this corner by yourself?"

"There were no thoughts of special consequence," Jane said, with a shake of her golden head. Henry noted the way her curling locks brushed against her shoulders, and smiled again.

"If I have disturbed you, Lady Jane, I can leave you unto yourself," Henry offered.

"Not at all, majesty!" Jane said, "Please, you mustn't leave." She smiled brightly. "I should never forgive myself if I let you leave me so quickly."

"You need never fear that, Lady Jane," Henry assured her, "I will not leave you alone, if you will do me the same courtesy."

Across the room, Catharine Howard put her hand on Madge's arm and hissed, "A Seymour?! Madge, is he really there with a Seymour?!"

"It is so," Madge said in apparent disbelief.

Catharine frowned at the king, sitting with the daughter of a man so detestable to her own family. Catharine turned to Bessie Blount sitting by her, and said quietly, "Bess, do you see that? You know, I have never seen his majesty look so occupied by one person, when there is such a variety of people to be met with!"

Bessie glanced across the room and saw the king still sitting with Jane Seymour. "The king, I believe, is interested in a great many people. I think it is admirable of him to seek out Lady Jane, when she was so secluded and lonely earlier."

Catharine leaned back in her chair and sipped from her cup. "You would," she stated.

Bessie returned her gaze to the king and Jane Seymour. There seemed to be some light in his eye that Bessie herself hadn't seen for some time. To reassure herself, Bessie reminded herself of the invitation she had for that night, to join the king in his bed. Whatever interest he had in Lady Jane could not change that fact that she, Bessie, was the king's mistress, and would still reap the rewards. Bessie pulled at her stomacher, willing it to be looser, and turned her gaze away from Henry.


	15. Chapter 15

_Author's Note:_Here, at long last, is the fifteenth chapter of "The Bachelor". This is a fun chapter. Wolsey is beginning his ascent to the higher circles at court, Charles Brandon faces a dilemma, and the Boleyns and the Seymours will soon begin their own attempts at moving into the king's inner circle. Oh, the intrigue! Read and review, merci beaucoup!

**Disclaimer:** I own neither the show nor the characters, or any part of either! I just manipulate them for entertainment's sake.

* * *

**CHAPTER XV**

Thomas Wolsey walked with haste towards the king's rooms, as he had been summoned. He strode with a demeanour of calm, but having a private audience with the king of England was enough to send any man into a panic.

An attendant showed Wolsey into Henry's rooms without batting an eye. It was a common occurrence to see Wolsey attending to the king's demands. Anyone could see how Wolsey was growing in the king's esteem, and how he took advantage of it.

Wolsey bowed at the door when he was shown into the king's privy chamber. Henry sat at the head of a long table, one hand holding onto a letter, the other hand letting the fingers tap along the jaw line. "Wolsey," Henry said as the older man bowed his head respectfully, "There are problems in the world."

"Surely nothing your majesty cannot handle?" Wolsey said.

"Spain threatens to end our alliance," Henry stated, "It has been many years since the princess of Aragon was married to our prince of Wales. Ferdinand want more assurance that we are ever seeking his favour."

"What does he want?" Wolsey asked, walking towards the king slowly, "A treaty? A marriage?"

Henry shot Wolsey a look. "The latter is harder to come by than some people think."

"Of course your majesty must keep in mind the difficulties of aligning with Spain," Wolsey stated, "Relations between Spain and France are a bit strained at the moment."

"Which brings me to a more pressing matter," Henry replied. He tossed the letter he was holding down on the table. "I have a very informative letter, from an ambassador in France."

"Indeed?" Wolsey said.

"Yes. My ambassador has very interesting insight into Francis's view of England. He also alerts me to the actions of my sister, the dowager queen. I am more than a little concerned."

"There is ill news of dowager queen Mary?" Wolsey asked, gently prodding for more information.

"My ambassador claims that others look for dead men's shoes," Henry said, leaning back in his chair, "He warns me that there have been attempts to court my sister, and that these advances came from one of my own courtiers. Can you imagine who, Wolsey?"

Wolsey nodded slowly. "Suffolk, majesty?"

Henry stroked his jaw again. "I fear it is so." He sat for a moment in quiet contemplation, before his pensive eyes flicked towards Wolsey in sudden alertness. "You will write to my ambassador, and summon him hence. I have a feeling that he has a great deal to tell me of France."

"Your majesty would entrust me with such a task?"

Henry got to his feet, and moved towards Wolsey. "You are undoubtedly aware that the only councillors I have are those I inherited from my father, the late king. Their views- shall we say- don't suit me. I have given them, and them alone, my ear for my whole reign. I think it is time for a change, don't you Wolsey?"

Wolsey bowed his head. "I do, majesty," he replied.

Henry put his hand on Wolsey's shoulder. "So go, and write the letter."

Wolsey bowed, and retreated from the room. He went quickly to his own rooms, to begin his work at once. Wolsey was nothing if not prompt. Such instructions from the king himself could not be put aside until later.

His mistress, Joan Larke, was awaiting him in his chambers. "What did the king want?" Joan asked tersely.

"It is good news, Joan," Wolsey said, sitting down with a sheet of parchment to begin his work, "The king begins to trust me even more."

"It is good, Thomas," Joan said, "But do you not think that you expect too much too quickly?"

"Joan!" Wolsey took her hands in his own, "Think of the world of good I could do, if only I could push aside Foxe and Walham, the king's insipid councillors."

"What about More?" Joan pressed, "I believed the king goes to More almost daily for advice."

"Do not fear on account of Thomas More!" Wolsey stated, "Henry may admire More's humanist stance, but he needs someone who understands greater politics. More is a country lawyer, who was even banished some years ago. I do not fear any threat from him."

Joan sighed, "Watch your head, Thomas. I fear you might lose it."

"You're paranoid," Wolsey insisted, "We can only gain by having the king's ear."

"He is young, and impressionable," Joan admitted, "Only _do_ be careful!"

"I always am," Wolsey returned with a smile, and went on writing the letter to the French ambassador.

* * *

On a fine day, Jane and Elizabeth Seymour took the air with their brothers, who came for a visit. Elizabeth, who was always most fond of Thomas, walked and talked with him, leaving Edward and Jane together.

"How do you like Princess Catherine, sister?" Edward asked.

"She is everything good and kind," Jane smiled, "I never hear a stern word pass her lips. When she is displeased, which is not very often, she will quietly and calmly express her displeasure. She never torments me about my lack of education, and she always finds time to praise the few things I do well. Her temper suits me exactly, and I am glad to serve her."

"I'm glad you're happy, little Jane," Edward said.

"I am," Jane said, "Ever since our brother John died- God rest his soul- I admit, I have been melancholy. I loved John so, and he left us so suddenly. Our home at Wulfhall didn't offer me a great deal of joy. Here at court, I am much happier. I cannot imagine being anywhere but serving Princess Catherine."

"Does King Henry share your affection for the princess?"

"What do you mean?" Jane frowned.

"Do you think he is- forming an attachment to her?" Edward asked.

"Oh!" Jane said, "Do you know, I do believe he could be. His majesty is always so sweet and gracious to her."

"But does he ever speak of marriage to her?" Edward asked.

"I think not," Jane said, "But I am not sure."

"Dear Jane, you must keep us informed on this subject. You must tell me at once if the king mentions marriage to Princess Catherine."

"But- for heavens' sake, Edward! Why?"

"If the king looks to marry in another place, it could mean very good things for us."

"I don't understand," Jane said, "How could that affect us?"

"Jane, you cannot be so innocent!" Edward exclaimed, losing his patience, "Do you know who the king's mistress is now?"

"Mistress? Oh, I've heard rumours, but Edward, surely the king doesn't have a mistress?"

"He does. It is Mistress Elizabeth Blount. You know her, of course?"

"Yes, Bessie," Jane said.

"And you see how well she is treated? How she is given precedence above all other ladies, save for the princess?"

"I suppose so, but Edward-"

"So do you not see what a great thing it would be, to be mistress to the king?"

Jane looked at her brother in surprise. "What are you saying?"

Edward sighed. "Nothing yet, Jane. But soon, your family might call on you to do your duty."

"What is my duty?" Jane asked.

"Whatever your father and brothers command," Edward said simply.

* * *

Charles Brandon moved hurriedly through the streets of London, his step quick and nervous. He glanced over his shoulder hastily, before facing forward again. His nervous behaviour was not without cause. No one yet knew that the ship he'd been on had landed in England again.

Charles stopped at a house on Thames Street, and knocked briskly on the door. Charles was surprised to see the door answered by a familiar face. He bowed slightly, and then raised his eyebrows. "Lady Anne Hastings," he remarked, "Fancy seeing you here."

Lady Anne pushed past him. "William and Sir Anthony are upstairs. I assume you came to see them?"

"Yes, but I didn't expect the door to Compton's house to be answered personally by you, my lady," Charles remarked.

"I'm on my way out," Lady Anne stated, "Go up, if you will." Lady Anne moved away quickly.

Charles did go up, and found his friends William and Anthony quickly. "Lady Anne?" he asked, after the initial greetings were exchanged.

Sir William Compton grinned. "I saved her from a convent," he said, "And she is excessively grateful."

"You look as though you have something on your mind, Charles," Anthony said.

"I do."

"Have a drink then, and share the news," Sir William said, and called for beverages.

After being served, Charles stared restlessly into his cup.

"What is it, Charles?" Anthony asked.

Charles looked up at his friends. "I'm married."

Anthony raised his eyebrows at this, and William laughed aloud. "Good God, Charles!" William exclaimed, "Who is it this time? Some poor French maid you seduced?"

"The dowager queen of France, actually," Charles snapped, "Mary."

This silenced his friends for a moment. Anthony appeared mortally shocked. William recovered himself slightly, and managed to say, "Well, you're moving up in the world."

"I'm a dead man," Charles said, "I'm dead. Henry will kill me!"

"He won't be pleased," Anthony admitted.

"Won't be pleased?!" Charles cried, "Anthony, I married his sister, the princess of England and queen of France. I married her, and without his permission or blessing. He specifically told me not to. I'm a dead man walking!"

"Why did you do it?" William asked, almost accusingly.

Charles shrugged helplessly.

"Do you love her?" Anthony asked, in a kinder way.

"I think I might," Charles said, "I don't know! So much happened on the way to France and in France and on the way back from France. I've always loved her, in a way, but this started off as a flirtation. Before I know it, I'm offering her this world that I just can't give her! I'm pledging my heart to her, and risking my life in the process."

"So, you just fell in love?" Anthony pressed.

"Damn it, Anthony, I'm too scared to love anyone right now. Mary's worried, but she won't admit it. She keeps saying he'll forgive us. I know him, and you know him. He won't forgive us. What can I do?"

"There's not much you can do, Charles," William said, "Go to the king and take his anger like a man."

"And Charles, stand by Mary, and what you've done," Anthony said, "Anything else will look like weakness to the king."

Charles buried his face in his hands. "You know I'm dead, or banished?"

Anthony lowered his head sadly. William tilted his curiously. "Was it worth it?" he asked.

Charles sighed. "I guess we'll find out."

* * *

"Your majesty, Sir Thomas Boleyn," a servant announced.

Henry, sitting in his privy chamber, waved the man forward, and got to his feet. "Sir Thomas."

"Majesty," Sir Thomas said, bowing gracefully.

"How do you find England, after such a long stay in France?" Henry asked.

"More beautiful than ever, under your majesty's rule," Sir Thomas said.

Henry smiled briefly, and motioned for Sir Thomas to sit down, which the gentleman did. "So tell me, Sir Thomas, what is King Francis like?"

"He is a goodly sort of prince, your majesty. He pays more mind to his court than his country, I find, but experience will alter that."

"Tell me more of his court," Henry said, leaning forward in his seat.

"I am being honest, majesty?" Sir Thomas said.

"I hope so," Henry said.

"It is a place very much concerned with the finer things in life. Masques and plays and all sorts of merriment daily. However, despite the outwardly appearance of harmless pleasure, I find France to be a place renowned for its loose morals and licentiousness. Your court in comparison, majesty, I find to be a safe haven of Christian morals and amusement at a very agreeable balance."

"Hm," Henry mused, "Tell me more of King Francis."

"As I said before, majesty, an agreeable and healthy ruler."

"Healthy, you say?" Henry pressed, "Is he handsome?"

"Very, your majesty."

"Athletic?"

"He plays at many things, and quite well, your majesty."

"Hm," Henry said again, "And what of his politics? Will they suit England's own views?"

"I think King Francis has great potential as an ally," Sir Thomas said, "If closely monitored."

"I see," Henry said, "Yes, I do see." He nodded slowly. "Now, Sir Thomas, I believe you have another item of interest to me?"

"Indeed?"

"Yes. You wrote to me on a matter concerning the former Princess Mary, now Dowager Queen Mary."

"Of course, your majesty."

"Well, get on with it. What's she done?" Henry demanded.

"I wrote of my concerns that her majesty behaved in a way less than befitting her station and position. She was discovered, on more than one occasion, in an awkward situation with his Grace the new Duke of Suffolk."

Henry resisted a snarl of sheer displeasure. "What sort of situation, specifically?"

"Your majesty, my own daughter saw her majesty leave the duke's chambers late at night."

Henry clasped his hands at his chin. "You are positive?"

"Absolutely so, your majesty."

Henry sighed. "You were right to inform me of this, and you shall not be sorry for it. Your daughter, what is her name?"

"Mary, your majesty. She informed me of what she saw, and I found others who were equally willing to provide evidence."

"Your daughter deserves a reward. Perhaps she would care to serve in the household of the dowager Princess Catherine of Wales, who lives here at court?"

Sir Thomas looked surprised and honoured by the suggestion. "Your majesty, she would be honoured, I'm sure."

"Very well, I will make the arrangements," Henry said, and then waved Thomas Boleyn out.

"Your majesty," Sir Thomas bowed, and hurried out.

Henry sat quietly at the table, staring into space. Then, suddenly, he smashed his balled-up fist onto the table and snapped, "That presumptuous bastard!" He got to his feet and moved out of his chambers, into the main hall. As he'd hoped, he saw Thomas More in the hall. "Thomas!" Henry called, "A word."

Thomas followed Henry out of the hall, and into the palace's gardens. "Your majesty, what troubles you?"

"I have just learned of a great act of disloyalty against me," Henry said, his voice shaking with rage.

"What has happened?" Thomas asked, laying a hand on Henry's shoulder.

"Brandon, my supposed friend, who I have so recently made Duke of Suffolk- he seeks to challenge my authority."

"Only a simple man would attempt it. Pray, what was his transgression?"

"He's put my sister's honour at risk," Henry said, "And in turn, my honour."

"Good heavens. And with what motive?"

"I don't know. I can't think of one. I've never been anything but kind to him. I've shown him favour above those who deserved it more. I treated him as I did my own brother- better, at times! I gave him everything he should want, and yet he looks to take more!"

"Surely he does not act to spite you?" Thomas said.

"If not, then his own selfishness drives him," Henry said, "I begin to hate him. Who does he think he is?"

After a moment of quiet contemplation, Thomas said, "It is only natural, Henry, to sometimes find displeasure or disappointment where your heart has been freely given."

"What should I do? I cannot let him just get away with it!" Henry shook his head, "He forgets, I could destroy him in one fell swoop."

"Harry, _saepe intereunt aliis meditantes necem," _Thomas said calmly.

Henry sighed. "'Those who plot the destruction of others often fall themselves.'"

"I fear you will find little pleasure in revenge. Self-destruction never occurs quickly; it is gradual, a descent that takes time. But you will feel it dearly if you blindly seek revenge on your friend."

"I still cannot forgive him," Henry said.

"That, too, comes with time," Thomas said sympathetically.


	16. Chapter 16

_Author's Note__: Here is chapter sixteen, for your consideration. This chapter really brings the Charles-Mary storyline to a climactic head, I think. Also, it includes an introduction to one of the best characters from The Tudors, at least he is in my opinion! As usual, let me know what you think of everything from characters to plotlines. Happy reading! :D_

**CHAPTER XVI**

Mary had done many difficult things in her life. She'd sent her beloved sister to Scotland, to the unknown. She'd lost her wonderful mother and father suddenly, to illnesses, as well as her oldest brother. She'd been cast off by her only remaining family, her brother, to an unknown land of her own. Finally, things appeared to be righting themselves as she found love, and fate allowed her to accept it. Now, she found herself doing the most difficult thing she'd ever done.

She was going to face her brother.

She could only imagine what he would do. She was brave for Charles, and told him she was sure the king would be lenient, but she was nervous herself. She and Charles now rode to court, each expecting a private audience with the king. As they stepped down from the coach, she felt Charles squeeze her hand tightly. "Just remember, I will not abandon you," he said, "I-I love you."

Mary felt her heart grow lighter at his words. He'd been so distracted since they'd arrived in England, he barely said two words to her. She'd worried that his fear was coming between them. She smiled slightly at him. Her husband- she still was in disbelief that this handsome, charming young man was her husband! They walked into court together.

It was quiet when they walked in. Mary felt all eyes on her, but held firm to Charles's arm. They stopped outside the king's privy chambers, and Mary heard Henry call, "Bring them in!"

A man Mary didn't recognize motioned for her to enter the room. Charles, however, had grown familiar with this man. It was Thomas Wolsey. Charles frowned at him, wondering how he'd ever gained admittance to the king's private matters. However, whatever the reason, Wolsey followed them in, and shut the door.

Charles and Mary were now alone with the king, save for Wolsey and a few attendants. Mary felt slightly safer surrounded by people than she would facing Henry alone.

Henry moved towards them, his eyes cold, but his person relaxed. He glanced at Mary holding Charles's arm, and looked at his friend with eyes of poison. "Mary, my poor widowed sister," Henry said, "You appear to be faring better than expected."

"My grief has not been severe, brother," Mary said carefully.

Henry nodded, and turned to Charles. "And my lord Suffolk! How well you look. French air suits you, does it?"

"Not more so than English air, majesty," Charles said.

"Indeed," Henry said, "Well Charles, I have recently spoken to my ambassador from France. He had a great many interesting things to tell me."

"Did he?" Charles said.

"Yes. You have some things to answer for."

"I will do so gladly," Charles said, looking forward bravely.

Charles's calm demeanour made the rage within Henry grow, and he spat out, "I have been informed of your entering my sister the dowager queen's chambers privately and uninvited while in France, and that you remained there for more than the proper amount of time."

Charles took a deep intake of breath, and prepared to meet the oncoming situation bravely. "Such rumours are false, but as for the dowager queen, I think you'll find her lately become Duchess of Suffolk, a title she more readily enjoys."

Henry's face lost all appearance of calm, and rage showed plainly on his face. Mary drew back at the sight, and even Charles's courage faltered. "I did not give you permission to marry my sister!" he yelled.

"Majesty-" Charles began.

"Do not speak, you lowly dog!" Henry bellowed, "Do you forget, I am your king and sovereign? Do you think to speak to me as though you were my equal? You may have raised yourself up to be a prince, but I am still your king!"

Charles dared not let his resolve fail him, and struggled against the force of the king.

Henry turned towards Mary. "And you; you forget yourself, madam. I've shown you every kindness after the death of your husband the king. I bring you home at your request, and I look to greet you myself at your return, like any loving brother. But what is this? I find you've disobeyed me; worse still, openly opposed me! Me!"

"No, Henry, please," Mary said.

"I am not Henry to you!" Henry shouted, "I am your king, and I will be addressed as such!"

"Majesty, I ask for your forgiveness and understanding," Mary said.

"Understanding?" Henry sneered.

"Yes," Mary said, "I was most distressed in France, as your majesty knows. After my trying experience, I found a chance for love and happiness. Surely your majesty cannot condemn me for trying to take hold of that chance!"

"It is the manner in which you did so that offends," Henry snapped, "You did not ask me to marry Brandon."

"Would you have let me?" Mary demanded.

"Well, we'll never know, will we?" Henry replied.

"Please, for all the love between us as brother and sister-"

"I speak not as your brother, but as your slighted king."

"And I seek the mercy of that king, of my most kind lord and sovereign," Mary said beseechingly, "Please. I am only guilty of loving him!"

Henry shot her an angry, slightly disgusted look. "You had no right to love him."

"Why?" Mary said, "Do you fear that his love for me could be greater even than his love for you?"

Both Henry and Charles reacted with surprise to this. "I love your majesty, and look to serve you, as I always have," Charles exclaimed.

"You're both banished from court," Henry said, "Get out, and do not come back."

Mary was visibly shaking as she turned on her heel and ran from the king's chambers, with Charles following slowly and dejectedly behind her.

As Charles left, he glanced at Wolsey. Wolsey appeared to be lost in thought. Charles wondered if he was trying to appear as though he hadn't been paying attention, for Charles's benefit, or if there was something behind that thoughtful look of his.

In any case, it didn't matter. Charles's life at court was over.

* * *

It was sunny when the coach pulled into Hever Castle. The door of the coach opened, and a very pretty dark haired girl stumbled out. "My legs are aching!" she called to the other occupants of the coach, "How I detest long journeys!"

Mary and George, her older sister and younger brother, followed her. "Oh, Anne, are you not glad to be home at long last?" Mary said, staring up at the castle with fond sentimentality.

Anne smiled and put her arm around her sister. "It has been too long, and I know the change of scenery will work wonders for you."

"Mary," a voice called, and the three Boleyns turned to see their mother Lady Elizabeth approaching, "You're wanted inside. Anne, you ought to go rest."

"I will, after I've finished walking the grounds," Anne stated. Mary followed her mother inside, and Anne took George's arm. "Doesn't she look ill to you?"

"Our Mary?" George frowned, "She did look a little down, I thought. What's the matter with her?"

"She's still sore about King Francis," Anne said, as she and her brother walked out onto the lawns of Hever. "Before we left, I think she heard him call her 'his English mare.' She took it very hard. I think she actually fell in love with him."

"Our poor sister. She feels things so deeply."

"It's so stupid!" Anne said with exasperation, "How could she love such a man? I only hope Papa brought her home to be married. It would do her well."

"I am surprised King Francis's attentions were not put on you!" George exclaimed.

"I wouldn't let them," Anne replied, "I was scared, George, after I saw what happened to Mary. She was just a prostitute to him, and he treated her like it, but she couldn't see it! I hate that she was so blind. I wanted to save her and slap her at the same time!"

"You didn't, I hope? Slap her, that is."

"Of course not. You see how delicate she is. She's not a mare- she's a little filly, or a flower, that must be protected."

"I suppose you will not like to hear the news, then," George stated.

"What?" Anne turned towards him. "George, tell me!"

"I heard Father tell Mother. Mary's going to court."

Anne sighed and shook her head. "Father will be the death of her! He claimed that Mary shamed the whole family when she acted with so little care in France, but I know he will surely force her on this other king."

"No, Anne, it isn't so. Our father really felt the blow to our family when Mary was thought so little of in France. The Boleyn reputation was lucky to escape unmolested."

"But Mary was not given the privilege of that same escape. Don't argue with me, George, I am sure of what I know! Papa says he is scandalized, but he has learned the great benefits to be reaped when ones daughter is mistress to a powerful man. Mary only barely escaped being impregnated and even more scandalized by Francis, now Papa would set King Henry loose on her! It's unthinkable!"

"What if you could spare her that fate, by going and being prey to the king yourself?"

"I would not!" Anne exclaimed, "At least, I wouldn't be his whore. I'd do things differently than Mary. I'd find a way to get the upper hand."

George laughed. "It's an easy thing to say, sister, but I think actually doing it would be much harder than you think."

"Not if it's done right. That's what all kings need, you know. A strong woman who can control him, while letting him think he holds the power."

George let out a low whistle. "I pity your husband, Anne, whoever he is."

Anne laughed. "Poor fool, so do I!"

George laughed. "I've missed you, Anne!"

"And I missed you, George," Anne said, smiling at her brother. She turned her head at the sound of a horse's whinny. "Who is that?"

George squinted to see the approaching rider. "Oh, looks like we have a visitor."

"Do you know him?" Anne asked.

"It's a neighbour of ours. We've become friends since I've been home. Come, I'll introduce you." George led Anne towards the road where the rider rode.

The rider reined in his horse as he approached the brother and sister. He dismounted and smiled broadly. He was a tall, handsome young man. He pulled off his hat to reveal tousled, sandy hair. His eyes smiled as he bowed slightly towards Anne and said in an amiable tone, "George, I don't believe I've met your friend."

"Thomas, this is my sister, Anne. Anne, this is Thomas Wyatt."

"How do you do, Master Wyatt?" Anne smiled and extended her hand.

Thomas grinned, and leaned forward to kiss Anne's hand. "George never told me he had such a beautiful sister," he said.

"Do not be too offended, Master Wyatt, for he never told me he had such a handsome friend," Anne said.

Thomas raised his eyebrows and smiled again. "George, I see your sister is as charming as she is beautiful. Attributes like those will get you far, Mistress Anne."

Anne laughed, but George pulled her hand away from Thomas. "Alright, Wyatt, never mind," he said gruffly, "You're wasting your time."

"Master Boleyn, I rarely waste my time," Thomas said.

"Ignore my brother," Anne said, "He looks to protect me from you. Should he be protecting me from you, Master Wyatt?"

"Probably," Thomas replied.

"Hm," Anne said thoughtfully, raising her chin and examining him, "Well, you must walk with us, and tell me about all of the dangers you pose."

"Nothing should give me more pleasure, Mistress Anne," Thomas said with a wily grin that made George clench his fists and bite his tongue.

* * *

Henry stormed out into the gardens, looking for a few minutes of quiet solitude to soothe his anger. He'd just ordered Charles and Mary- his best friend and his favourite sister- out of his court! Henry still tingled with the remnants of rage, and he felt an intense desire to hit something. He walked quickly, without paying a great deal of attention to where he was going.

As he rounded a corner, he nearly collided with a young woman walking there. She cried out in surprise when he nearly toppled over her. "Your majesty!" she exclaimed.

Henry paused to look at her. "Oh, Mistress Seymour," he said, "Forgive me, if I startled you."

"Majesty, what distresses you so?" Lady Jane asked, her voice thick with concern.

"What?" Henry said.

"I've never seen your majesty look so distraught," Jane said softly, "If I can help you at all, I would do whatever I could."

Henry was startled by the way she went immediately to comforting him. "It is no great matter," he said, "I cannot burden you with my troubles."

"Majesty, if I could bear any of your burdens, I would do so gladly," Jane said. When Henry still looked unsure, Jane smiled. "It is a pretty day, and I find these gardens soothing. We could take a turn, couldn't we, majesty? We could speak or not; I wouldn't mind either."

Henry found himself being led by the mild-mannered young woman. They were quiet at first, as she had proposed, but soon Henry felt the need to share his problems with her. "Have you ever been betrayed, Lady Jane?"

Jane looked up at him, and appeared to consider this carefully. "I do not think so. I have always been surrounded by good, Christian people. They would not betray me."

"I do not have that privilege," Henry said, "As king, I am lied to and deceived daily. But when the deceiver is my own friend, I think I must draw the line!"

"I hate to think that someone has caused your majesty such grief," Jane said sadly.

"Yet I do not think he meant to," Henry said carefully, "I think it was his own stupid pride that drove him to it. I think he may have even been coerced into it."

Jane was quiet for a moment, and then she said softly, "Your majesty, keep in mind I do not know the exact circumstances of your pain. However, if I can speak from my own experience, I would council your majesty to have forgiveness in your heart."

"I thought you said you had never been betrayed?" Henry said, slightly irritated.

"Not myself, you understand, but my dear brother, Edward. He was betrayed most cruelly by our own father. I think I need not go into the circumstances of that situation, which I'm sure your majesty knows. Edward was very angry at our father; sometimes his anger and hurt were so severe, I thought he will kill our father, not to mention his own wife. However, soon my brother did something only a very great man can do."

Henry gave her a questioning look.

"He forgave him. The relationship between my father and brother may never be the same, but in my mind, I know my brother did the right thing. It was not an easy thing, but it was very noble."

Henry paused to think about her words.

Jane smiled slightly. "Perhaps your majesty will find that the offence was not so great?"

Henry glanced at her. "I think you are wise beyond your years, Lady Jane."

Jane smiled timidly. "I know a little, my lord."

"I would that I could only express my gratitude for your kind advice," Henry said. He leaned forward, placing his hand gently on Jane's arm, and kissed her cheek softly.

Jane seemed very surprised by the act, and looked up at the king in astonishment.

"Let us keep walking, Lady Jane," Henry said, and now led her through the courtyard.

* * *

"You are sure of what you saw?" Catherine demanded.

"There is no mistaking it, your highness," Maria said tersely, "The king kissed Lady Jane Seymour, in broad daylight."

Catherine clasped her hands over her chest. "What sort of kiss?"

Maria shook her head in exasperation. "My lady, a kiss! The only kind there is!"

"There is not one kind! There are many. A brotherly kiss, a friendly kiss, a lover's kiss, which was it, Maria?!" Catherine asked.

"It was on her cheek, my lady, but still-" Maria said persistently.

Catherine sighed and twisted her rosary in her hands. "I thought Bessie was his mistress!"

"I think she still is," Maria said.

"You think?" Catherine said.

"I am almost positive. She goes to his bed at night, she dines with him often, and he seeks her out for companionship on numerous occasions."

"It should be _me_ that he seeks out for companionship!" Catherine said with dismay, sinking down into a chair. "Why does he do this, Maria? Why doesn't he marry me, or send me home?!"

"Perhaps he is still deciding if he wants you," Maria said carefully.

"It shouldn't be a matter of whether or not he wants me! I want him! Isn't that enough?" Catherine covered her face with her hand. "Maria, I'm frightened. I think he is displeased with me. I thought he grew to like me- even love me. Then he began taking more mistresses and- well now I don't know!"

Maria sat at her mistress's feet, and took her hand. "Do you- like him, my lady?"

"I-I don't know. I thought I might but it's been so long since I've been able to spend time with him. We've always been companionable, ever since I came to marry Arthur. Oh Arthur, rest his soul, I wish Henry could forget we were ever married. You know, I don't think he believes that it wasn't consummated. His sister, Mary, told me once that it was Charles Brandon who often told Henry to the contrary, that my marriage was consummated. Oh, if Suffolk wasn't already banished I'd- I don't know what I'd do."

"Your highness needs to be calm," Maria insisted, "We must put you in the king's way again."

"What if he can't love me?" Catherine asked, "What if I'm cursed- doomed to die childless and unloved by anyone?"

"You are not unloved!" Maria said indignantly.

"Does my father write on my behalf?"

"I have not heard so, your highness-" Maria said despairingly.

"What of my ambassador? Does he speak to the king for me?"

"I think not, my lady," Maria replied.

"You see, it is entirely on my shoulders!" Catherine said, "If I cannot make the king love me, I am finished. I will die here, alone. I will have failed my mother and father and country. Maria, I cannot live with that!"

"Please, be easy, my lady," Maria pleaded, "Things will improve. I know it. Let us focus on the matter at hand. What will we do about Jane Seymour?"

"What can we do? We can do nothing about Jane, and nothing about Bessie, and if anyone else enters the king's life, there is nothing we can do about her either."

"That isn't entirely true. At least we can take Lady Jane out of his way. Bessie is less the threat, since he's already sleeping with her. And you will make sure the king knows you are available."

"He knows," Catherine said.

"Keep it that way," Maria advised, "Keep the king in your sights, and I will see what I can do about everyone else."

* * *

"You begin to lose him, Elizabeth!" Sir John Blount said worriedly.

"I do not, Papa," Bessie insisted, "He is as kind to me as ever!"

"He was discovered kissing a Seymour only a few days ago."

"I know he feels only kindness and pity towards her," Bessie said, "He told me as much himself when I asked him!"

"Do not ask him any such thing," Sir John stated, "You will irritate him!"

"Papa, don't scold me," Bessie said, close to tears, "I'm doing all I can. I am as kind to the king as ever, and he is as attentive to me. What more must I do?" Bessie began to feel light-headed, and sat down.

"We could threaten to marry you off," Sir John mused, "Bessie, what's the matter with you?"

"Nothing," Bessie said quickly, "It is only- I've felt a bit ill lately. I have been nauseous most days, and I am finding it hard to lace myself as tight as before- and I begin to worry."

"Dear God," Sir John said, "Bessie! You aren't-"

"I don't know!" Bessie cried, "I don't know! I've never experienced _that_ before! How can I know?!"

"A physician. I will have a physician examine you."

"Papa, you're making me even more nervous!"

"Bessie, calm yourself. If you do, as I fear, begin to lose the king's love, bearing his child will bring it back again! You will be in favour for a long time, perhaps the rest of your life!" Sir John stopped to consider this, "Maybe he will marry you!"

"Papa, stop," Bessie pleaded.

Sir John ignored her, "Take care, daughter, that the king's attentions do not overexert you. Be careful until I can arrange for you to meet a physician. And watch out for the Seymours- nasty, grasping family that they are. Now, go back and find the king!" Sir John left, excited and hopeful, but the same could not be said for his daughter.


	17. Chapter 17

_Author's Note: Hello again, my lovely readers. It's been a little while since I uploaded a chapter, and some time has passed for the characters as well. In this chapter we find Mary and Charles, still banished, Bessie Blount still Henry's mistress, and everyone else at court doing whatever they have to to get by, even if that is sometimes unpleasant. Oh well, what can you do? Here is chapter seventeen, enjoyy!_

**CHAPTER XVII**

"It has been two weeks," Mary said, pacing back and forth in the room where she'd found Charles, "It has been two weeks since we were banished, and he has still not relented."

"Sit down, Mary," Charles snapped, "You're making me nervous."

"And you ought to be!" Mary replied, "Charles, you said he'd forgive us! You assured me-"

"I did no such thing," Charles said, "It was you who told me endlessly that he would forgive us. I, on the contrary, knew he would never do so."

"Oh, you did, did you?" Mary cried.

"I did!" Charles responded.

"I wonder that you ever married me then, Charles, if you knew it meant spiting the king."

"Well, so do I!" Charles said hastily, without thought.

Mary stared at her husband incredulously. Tears sprung to her eyes, but she dared not let them fall. Charles instantly realized the cruelty of his words, and looked at Mary with wide, apologetic eyes. "Mary-" he began.

"Don't," Mary snapped, and moved quickly out of the room.

"Mary!" Charles was instantly on his feet and following her.

"I had no idea you felt this way. Perhaps it isn't too late to get it annulled. Henry would perhaps forgive you then," Mary said, her words strained and angry as she walked quickly away from him.

"I don't want to get it annulled. I don't care what Henry thinks."

"Oh, apparently you do!" Mary cried, "So much so that you even regret marrying me!"

Charles reached her side and pulled her close to him. "I don't regret it. I don't regret it a bit."

"You liar," Mary said furiously.

"I would not lie to you about this. I love you, Mary, and Henry will forgive us," Charles was unsettled by the fact that Mary wouldn't meet his eyes, "You do believe me, don't you, Mary? Everything will be alright. Do you believe me?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe," Mary said quietly after a moment. She pushed Charles's hands away and moved down the hall to her own chambers.

Charles watched her go, and could almost feel her pulling away from him. He retreated back to his chambers, regretting each step he was taking away from her, but knowing that there was no other way to go.

A few hours later, an attendant came into Charles's rooms. "The archbishop of York, my lord," the attendant announced, moving aside for the unexpected guest to enter.

Charles looked up from his papers as Thomas Wolsey entered the room. "Wolsey?" Charles said, raising an eyebrow, "Oh, I remember now. His majesty only lately made you archbishop of York."

"That is so, your Grace. A month past," Wolsey said with a nod.

"Then forgive me, your excellency, for my informal greeting," Charles said, bowing slightly.

"There is no need, your Grace. I come on a matter of business."

"What business do you have with me?" Charles asked curiously.

"It is of a very desirable nature to you, and to the dowager queen," Wolsey said.

"Please, sit down," Charles motioned to the chairs. They sat, and then Charles leaned forward and looked at Wolsey expectantly.

"Your Grace," Wolsey began, "In the fortnight that you have been banished, I have taken your matter into great consideration. I believe I have found a way to restore you to the king's favour, at minimal inconvenience to you."

"I can imagine no inconvenience being too great to avail me to the king's favour once more," Charles said carefully, "But I must ask, what interest is this matter to you?"

Wolsey smiled disarmingly. "You are aware, of course, that I have been in his majesty's service for his whole reign, and have been blessed with a great amount of favour and trust. And while I am grateful that his majesty has been so free with his trust in regards to myself, I fear it is ill-placed in some others at court."

"Of whom do you speak?" Charles asked.

"It is not for me to name names," Wolsey waved his hand dismissively, "I do feel, however, that another," Wolsey considered his use of words, "_sensible_ ear to listen to the king's problems could only benefit him. And if said sensible person should have views similar to my own, well, so much the better."

"Let me see if I understand," Charles said, "You will restore me to the king's favour, but in turn I will be under your thumb?"

Wolsey shook his head. "I prefer to believe that we will be allies."

Charles frowned, still suspiciously wondering if Wolsey was trying to manipulate him.

"Of course your Grace may take time to consider my proposition," Wolsey said, "But may I remind you that his majesty's patience is ever wearing thin, and I don't see anyone else presenting you so satisfactory an offer."

Charles pushed his palms together. "What is the 'minimal inconvenience' that you spoke of?"

"Your Grace as well as the dowager queen must make separate, heartfelt apologies to his majesty. As you can imagine, this will likely prove mildly unpleasant, but not impossible. Also, I have constructed a way to retrieve Queen Mary's dowry from France virtually untouched. You will, through myself obviously, secure a way to return this to his majesty. Also, Queen Mary will have to use her influence with King Francis to initiate a meeting between him and King Henry. These aligned with a few other minor details, I am confident will restore you to your former position of favour."

Charles leaned back in his seat, and examined Wolsey. "And you've already found a way to do all of this?"

"Yes," Wolsey said simply.

"You must have been thinking about this for awhile."

"Yes."

"And you're sure it will work?"

"I am confident, yes," Wolsey replied.

Charles stood, as did Wolsey. "Alright," Charles said, "I'll do it. Set it up, and I'll do it."

Wolsey bowed towards Charles. "I look forward to collaborating with you in the future, your Grace."

"Your excellency," Charles bowed in return.

As Wolsey left, Charles was startled by his own good fortune. Getting back into Henry's good graces seemed to be easier than he'd thought it would be. Wolsey seemed to have everything under control. However, if the plan was as good and fair as Wolsey had presented it to be, why did Charles feel as though he'd just sold his soul?

* * *

Katherine moved through the gallery of the palace, glad to get away from Princess Catherine's chambers. It was not the princess that Katherine disliked; it was her ladies-in-waiting. Katherine sister Ann had befriended Catharine Howard and Madge Shelton, despite all of Katherine's warnings against it. Without Ann to talk to, Katherine felt mildly lonely. It was not that she couldn't make friends of her own among Princess Catherine's ladies, but she didn't especially want to.

Princess Catherine had sent Katherine in search of her chaplain and confessor. Almost above all else, Katherine admired the princess's piety, but even Katherine did not see the need for someone as gracious and pure as Princess Catherine to confess so very often. However, Katherine also knew about Catherine's fondness for her confessor, Fray Diego Fernandez. Catherine had written to her father, King Ferdinand, and asked for a confessor to be sent from the Observant Franciscans, and fortunately for her, King Ferdinand had responded quickly. Catherine relied heavily on her confessor, and his advice. Both of the Spanish ambassadors, the elderly Rodrigo de Puebla and the ambitious Guiterre Gomez de Fuensalida opposed Fray Diego, but Catherine stood firmly by him.

Distracted by her thoughts, Katherine almost didn't hear the voice that called her name. When the voice repeated the call, Katherine shook herself out of her thoughts, and looked in the direction of the voice. Katherine saw that it was the Baron Latymer, John Nevill. He'd been a good friend to Katherine's father, and so she acknowledged him with a smile.

"My lord," she said.

"Mistress Parr," the baron said with a kind smile, taking her hand in his own, "You are looking very well, as usual."

"You're too kind, my lord," Katherine said, as was expected of her.

"How do you find life in the princess's household?" Baron Latymer asked.

"It is very pleasant," Katherine said stiffly, "There is no end to amusement."

The baron tilted his head curiously. "Well, I am glad to hear that. I worried that you would not enjoy the amusement to be had at court. Your sister Ann, I knew, would enjoy it. When I suggested that you be brought to court, I must confess, I was unsure that you would be happy."

Katherine's eyes narrowed, and she went over what he'd said in her mind. "My lord? You suggested that we should come to court?"

"Well, yes."

"What is your interest in the matter?" Katherine demanded, realizing that her voice was slightly raised beyond what a young lady's should be.

"Well- Mistress Katherine, as you are the daughter of my late friend, I felt it was my duty to ensure that you be given every opportunity, and when one arose for you to be here at court, of course I promoted it. But why do you seem angry? You said you were happy here."

Katherine bit her lip and shook her head slowly. "Surely you know me well enough to know that I would be far happier away from here," she said, "As for you wanting to avail me to every opportunity, I assure you, it is not your place. Now, if you will excuse me, I am on an errand for her highness." Katherine moved around him, stung that his interference had brought her away from the home she longed to be at.

* * *

"Wolsey, there you are," Henry said, putting a hand on the older man's arm, "Come, we have a great deal to do."

"Of course, majesty," Wolsey said, following him into his privy chambers.

"Now, what do you have to report?" Henry said, leaning against the corner of the table.

"A great deal, your majesty," Wolsey said, "First, there is the matter of the Duke and Duchess of Suffolk."

Henry crossed his arms sullenly over his chest. "What about them?" he snapped.

"Majesty, Suffolk has spoken to me and assured me of his ongoing devotion to your majesty. Even while banished from this court, he has been working to redeem himself."

"Has he?" Henry scoffed, "What does he do that he thinks will redeem him?"

"I am to understand that he's managed to convince King Francis to return the dowager queen's dowry."

Henry frowned. "How has he managed that?" he demanded.

"That is beyond what I am able to say," Wolsey said with a shrug, "Also, despite King Francis's initial hesitation about coming to England to meet with your majesty, Suffolk has been able to use the influence of the duchess to bring Francis here."

"He has?" Henry said, mystified.

"Indeed," Wolsey said, "Suffolk spoke wholeheartedly about his affection for your majesty, and about his severe distress over being so long separated from you and your service. He asks to come and humble himself before you, along with his wife, in hopes that your majesty can find a way to overlook his shortcomings."

Henry frowned, and stroked his jaw line. "_Charles Brandon _said all this?"

Wolsey nodded his head. "Indeed, his unhappiness is incalculable."

Henry sighed, wondering if his friend was indeed so humbled. It seemed so unlike him. "I will consider it," Henry said to Wolsey, "Now, what else do you have to tell me?"

"Another matter of personal business," Wolsey said slowly, "I have taken it upon myself to remove Lady Elizabeth Blount to a house in the country."

Henry's eyes widened, and then narrowed. He pushed away from the table, and moved towards Wolsey slowly, and menacingly. "What?" he snapped.

"I believe your majesty will not be displeased when you learn of the cause," Wolsey said quickly.

"What is the cause?!" Henry demanded, moving close to Wolsey and glaring at him.

"The lady is with child," Wolsey said.

Henry froze in place, his mouth slightly agape. "What?" Henry said.

"A physician has just confirmed it. Sir John Blount came to me when he learned of it. He wanted assurance that his daughter and the child would be treated kindly. I had Lady Elizabeth sent to a house in the country to await your majesty's reaction."

"She is carrying my child," Henry said wonderingly.

"The Blounts wonder if your majesty will recognize it," Wolsey said gently.

"I- I don't know," Henry said, frowning, "Should I?"

"I think if it is a girl, there will be little need."

"But if it's a boy?" Henry said.

"That is something else entirely. A boy could be a blessing, or it could cause problems."

"What sort of problems?"

"Of course an illegitimate child, even a boy, could not be your majesty's heir, however he could be seen as a rival to any legitimate children your majesty has in the future."

"Of course," Henry murmured, still lost in thought.

Wolsey proceeded from here even more cautiously. "And, if I may be so bold as to hint, majesty, I got the impression from Sir John that he wishes to offer Lady Elizabeth as a candidate for marriage."

"Marriage?" Henry said, bewildered, "I confess, I did not think much on that matter. A little, as everyone does, but not much."

"May I advise you in this matter?" Wolsey asked.

"Please," Henry nodded.

"If I were you, majesty, I should not want to marry Lady Blount," Wolsey said, "Despite her evident fertility, no one in England or otherwise would benefit from Queen Elizabeth Blount."

"That is so," Henry said, "While we are on the topic, what do you think of my matrimonial situation, or lack thereof more specifically?"

"I personally believe that your majesty might be happy with a queen by your side," Wolsey said.

"Yes, but who?" Henry demanded.

"Would you majesty like for me to search out possible candidates?" Wolsey asked.

"Quietly," Henry said with a small nod.

"Of course."

"Alright," Henry said. He exhaled deeply. "Now, onto the business of the day."

* * *

"The new ladies are here for you, your highness," Lady Jane Howard announced to Princess Catherine.

"Thank you, Lady Jane," Catherine said, and moved into the outer rooms of her chambers. There stood two girls, lowered respectfully into deep curtsies. Catherine motioned for them to stand, and then turned to another lady-in-waiting for an introduction.

"These are Lady Jane Parker and Lady Mary Boleyn," the lady said.

"Lady Parker. Lady Boleyn. You are welcome here. You will get settled, and then we shall see each other again." Catherine waved them off, and then moved back to her private chambers, followed by Maria. "What do we know of these two, Maria?" Catherine asked.

"Jane Parker's father is Baron Morley; an intellectual and respectable man. Jane, as you can see, is too young to be mixed up in any sort of scandal, and she should be an asset to your highness's household. Lady Mary's reputation is not so clean. She is recently returned from France, where she was lady-in-waiting to Queen Claude. Apparently she engaged in many love affairs, including one with King Francis himself. Lady Mary is even known to be called the Great Prostitute of Europe. Her father was an ambassador to France, and her uncle is Duke of Norfolk. Lady Mary herself is very lately betrothed to a Sir William Carey. They will likely marry soon, to be rid of her disgraceful reputation."

"Is it any wonder, then, that Henry brought her to court?" Catherine sighed, "I have more new ladies in my household than anything else. It's getting to the point that every man at court could have a dozen mistresses from my household alone," Catherine shook her head and paced, "Does he mean to torture me, or taunt me?"

"I could not say," Maria said sympathetically.

"My only consolation is that Bessie Blount has just quit my household. I am glad Henry tired of her at last."

"Amen to that," Maria said earnestly.

Catherine sighed. "I'll have to go and observe the new ladies." She went back into her outer chambers. Catherine went to her usual spot, and opened a book to the page she'd marked. Try as she might, Catherine found she could not concentrate, due to the noise her ladies were making. Catherine looked up, a little irritated. As she expected, it was Catharine Howard, Madge Shelton and Ann Parr making the giggling noises from the corner. Catherine sighed and closed her book. She stood up and moved over to the three girls.

Katherine Parr sat by the window, and she looked on nervously as the princess approached Ann and her new friends. If Ann was sent away for being troublesome, the Parrs would be scandalized.

The three young girls stopped talking instantly as the princess approached them. They scrambled to their feet. Catherine saw their eyes flick nervously, and so she smiled disarmingly. "Ladies," she said, "What have I often told you about a lady's voice?"

"A lady should always strive to not let her voice grow louder than a quiet murmur," Madge said, as though these were memorized lines.

"Especially when the room is otherwise so quiet," Catherine said, "Now, pray tell my ladies, what has made you laugh so?"

"I fear you will think it wicked of us, my lady," Catharine Howard stated.

Catherine gave her a slight smile. "Well confess it," she said, "I will surely forgive you for a little wickedness."

"We were discussing the news, about how our friend Lady Elizabeth Blount has found herself in a terrible situation," Catharine said.

Catherine was startled. She shot a look at Maria, who appeared utterly confused, and then she looked back at Catharine Howard. "What sort of situation?" she demanded.

"The worst sort for a respectable young lady to find herself in," Catharine said.

Catherine clasped her hands together tightly, and tried to find her voice. "You ought not to laugh at others misfortunes," she said weakly, "I hope never to hear you doing it again."

"We are sorry, my lady," Madge said.

Catherine moved away from them and returned to her chair. The three girls in the corner were quiet, now watching their mistress. Maria moved to her side. "My lady-" she began worriedly.

"I am well, Maria. Did you not hear of this?"

"Not a word, I swear to you," Maria said, her voice twisted with sadness and anger.

"It is alright," Catherine assured it, "It was inevitable. It is alright, Maria. We will not speak of it again."

"Of course, my lady," Maria moved away, still writhing with anger at the lady-in-waiting who had so startled the princess, whose life had already been made so difficult.

Now Catherine was sure that Henry cared nothing for her. How could he, and yet do this? Catherine twisted her hands nervously. For what seemed like the millionth time since her arrival in England, Catherine wondered what would become of her.


	18. Chapter 18

_Author's Note__: It was brought to my attention- a veryy long time ago lol- that when i posted this chapter it was done very messily. I don't know what happened, but I did format it nicely, and apparently it didn't save. I'm replacing it with this one, which hopefully will redeem me a bit. I haven't been able to get on to fix it any sooner. Expect a new chapter verrrryy soon!_

**CHAPTER XVIII**

Thomas More walked into the king's privy chamber, as he had been summoned. The young king appeared lost in thought as he sat, barely noting Thomas's entrance. Thomas quietly cleared his throat, bringing Henry out of his thoughts. "Oh, Thomas. You're prompt," he remarked, "Do you have time for one of our walks?"

"As always, my time is yours," Thomas replied, "Something is weighing heavily on you?"

"As always," Henry smirked slightly. He got to his feet and led Thomas out of his chambers, "Have you heard of Bessie Blount?"

"I have heard only the whispers of court."

"What are people saying?"

"Of course, her sudden departure led to some speculation," Thomas examined the young man's face carefully, "What's happened, Harry?"

Henry sighed. "Bessie is with child. My child. I don't know whether to be glad or- irritated."

"Irritated?" Thomas repeated with a frown.

"Yes. Of course I knew what could happen with a mistress- that she could bear a child, but I suppose I didn't expect it-" Henry shook his head, and then continued heatedly, "In any case, what good is it to have a child if it's not to be an heir? It's almost a waste. A bastard would be tolerable if only I had a legitimate son."

"You must marry in order for that to happen."

"Which is another matter entirely," Henry said, "I don't know why I'm so hesitant. It is expected that a king will marry. My own brother, in preparation for his role, was married at fifteen. I am long past that age, and remain unmarried. If I do not marry soon, and have children, I run the risk of jeopardizing the Tudor dynasty; the legacy my father fought so hard to achieve. I think he regarded me a failure for my whole life. If I were to fail him in this, and let his dynasty fall, there would be no place for me in heaven with him."

"You clearly have the desire to marry, and the justification, of course. You just need the initiative. Your thoughts lie too much in games. Declare a war here, have a mistress there. A great king has no time for such frivolities. A great ruler should ever be working to secure his kingdom, from the inside and out. This meeting that Wolsey looks to arrange with France, and the treaty that will surely come with it, is sound, and you should approach it with an open mind. As for marriage and heirs, that is how you will secure the country from the inside. Find a bride who will make a good queen, as your departed mother was. I remember still, Queen Elizabeth of York, so beloved by the country, the mother of England. If you were to find someone with half of her good qualities, you would be fortunate. You have the potential for greatness. Besides, with greatness comes immortality, and I know what weight such things hold with you."

"Do you know, Thomas, the Spanish ambassadors keep pushing me towards my late brother's wife, Catherine. What do you think of that?"

Thomas paused to consider this. "Princess Catherine is everything she ought to be. She is young, and would bear heirs. She is kind and gracious, and trained to be a queen, specifically that of England."

"What about Arthur?" Henry asked, "What about my brother? She was his wife."

"She consistently denies consummation of the union?"

"Yes," Henry said, "Consistently. And pious and godly as she is, I do not like to think that she would lie."

Thomas nodded thoughtfully. "If you trust that the marriage was unlawful, I think her as good a candidate as any, perhaps better."

"Then- you would support such a union? Between myself and Catherine?" Henry said.

"On the condition that the Pope grant a dispensation, of course. Yes, I think it a sound plan. She could make you a good wife."

Henry nodded, and thought about what his friend had said. "As always, Thomas, I appreciate your opinion. I will keep it ever in mind." He cleared his throat, "Now, I think I need your diverting company more than ever. There is something I must do later this day that I do not want to do."

"Pray tell, what is it?" Thomas asked.

Henry swallowed back any unpleasant words, and forced a cool tone as he said, "My sister, the dowager queen, comes to court with her new husband. They intend to ask for my forgiveness."

"And, will you give it?"

"I haven't decided. Wolsey thinks it best, but he thinks ever of politics. I cannot forget how they snubbed me, insulted me, ignored me. It seems every mention of them drives the wound deeper. My dearest, oldest friend, and my favourite sister together betrayed me. It was a selfish act, and now _I_ must be selfless and forgive them," Henry sighed, and forced a smile towards Thomas, "I need not ask your opinion on this matter, at least, Thomas. I know it already."

"And what is it?"

"That you approve wholeheartedly of forgiveness and mercy. Were the country under your control, you would forgive every thief and beggar their sins."

"Is that so terrible?"

"No. It's frustrating. One person should not be so good. It should have to be spread around."

Thomas laughed. "You are good, too. You will do the right thing."

Henry nodded lamely. "If I must. But by God, I'll make them sweat for it."

* * *

"Are you scared, Charles?" Mary asked, fidgeting in the seat beside her husband, "Are you worried?" Mary looked at Charles sitting beside her, staring dully out the window, "For God's sake, Charles, talk to me."

"About what, Mary?" Charles demanded, turning to her.

Mary scoffed and turned away. "About what, he says, about what? Perhaps about what we're going to do."

"Of course I'm bloody worried," Charles practically snarled, "I'm trying not to think about it."

Mary sat back in her seat, turning her head away from him.

As always, Charles felt a small tug of guilt when he spoke so harshly to her, but he was becoming more adept at pushing the feeling away. "I'll lose my nerve if I think about it."

Mary was quiet for a moment more, before saying quietly, "I think I'm sorry I ever met you, Charles."

Charles looked over at her, and saw only her face turned away from him. A bit of light glinted off a tear falling silently from her eye. "I knew you would be," he replied just as quietly.

They arrived at the palace, and were led in. Mary looked around the place she'd known as a child, but it felt strange to her. Charles felt all eyes on him, and he struggled not to lose his composure.

Wolsey was waiting for them. He gave them a bright smile, as though they'd merely come for a visit. "This will all go very smoothly," he said with quiet confidence, "Her Grace will go in first, and make her apologies as we rehearsed, followed by his Grace. My lady, are you ready?"

Mary nodded. "I am."

Wolsey motioned for her to enter. Mary took a deep breath, and moved forward, struggling to seem easy in spirit. The room was full of people when she entered; this, she had half-expected. Her brother was nothing if not ostentatious. There he sat on his throne, glowering down at her. How she missed the Harry of old, the older brother who swept her off her feet with hugs, and defended her from every threat. Now he was the bully who sought to push her down, and no one was there to defend her but herself.

Mary went before him, and sank to her knees as she'd been bid to do. She folded her hands before her, and bowed her head meekly. "Your majesty," she said, surprising herself with her steady voice.

"Your Grace," Henry said, his voice just as calm as hers, "You have permission to address me."

Mary raised her head, and looked up at her king. "My lord, I wish to beg your pardon for my offences against you. So undeserving was I of such a gracious, generous king, but I was fortunate enough to be so blessed. I ask your forgiveness and mercy where I have failed you, my glorious king, and I hope, by God's Grace, you can pardon me. I hereby pledge my wholehearted devotion and allegiance to your majesty, from this day forth, forevermore." Mary did not cry- she was stronger than that. She looked up at him with hope, but little else.

Henry looked, and for the first time in months saw his sister. Where she was once just a bargaining chip he could now see her and remember the times of their childhood, when they were so close. Their closeness as children added to his sense of betrayal at this time, but he loved her as ever.

"Your Grace," he said, "There is another order of business before I can decide whether or not to rescind your punishment." Henry took his eyes off Mary. "Let his Grace, the Duke of Suffolk, enter."

Charles paced outside the room as Mary made her apology. He wished he could hear her, to see how things were going. Now, the door opened and Wolsey said, "It's your turn." Charles went in, as anxious and unaware as a newborn child. He ignored the large assembly of people in the room, and his nervous wife standing off to the side; he settled his eyes on the prize, the furious face of his king and former friend.

Charles lowered himself to the ground, and clasped one balled-up fist in his hand. "Your majesty," he said.

Henry lifted himself from his throne, and moved towards the other young man, not taking his eyes off of him for a second. He went to him, circling him once slowly, then again, like a wild animal examining its prey. "I heard you crawled here like a dog," he snapped when he finally spoke.

"Something like-" Charles began.

"Hold your tongue," Henry barked, "You were always too useful with it."

"Yes, your majesty," Charles said meekly.

"Have you come to beg my forgiveness?" Henry demanded.

"Yes, your majesty."

Henry leaned close to his ear, and said with a poisonous voice, "Then beg for it."

It took everything in Charles, all of his pride and dignity, to keep control of himself and say, "With all my heart, with all my soul, with every ounce of my being, my king, my sovereign, my dread lord; I beg you to forgive your miserable servant; your humble, worthless, thoughtless servant who deserves so little but, by your bounty and your grace, was given so much. Ungrateful wretch that I am, unworthy of your majesty's love." Charles didn't dare look up at Henry after this speech, and kept his eyes fixed firmly ahead.

Henry glared down at his friend. Charles had always been so much greater than him. As children, Charles had dominated their games. As adults, Charles triumphed with women and sport and anything else. Even as king, Henry couldn't seem to keep up. Now, at long last, Charles was put in his place. As he kneeled before Henry, before his sovereign, before his king, Henry felt a wave of relief and gratification. Now, he was truly superior.

"Your Grace, you may rise," Henry said. Charles, startled, rose to meet Henry's eyes. Henry noted with satisfaction that he could look Charles directly in the eye. He shifted his glance towards his sister, who moved forward a step. "Welcome back," Henry said.

Mary gaped slightly, and let out a tiny gasp. Charles's face broke out into a surprised grin. Henry moved around him, nodding at Wolsey as he passed. Charles turned and looked at Wolsey, who smiled slightly. The group in the room began to disperse. Mary moved to Charles's side, and laid a gentle hand on his arm. Charles reached his hand up to meet hers, and squeezed it. He turned to face her. "It will all be alright now," he said confidently. He knelt and kissed her keenly. "We'll be alright now."

"Of course we will," Mary smiled widely.

Charles laughed slightly. "And to think we were worried," he tried to joke.

Mary moved closer. "I knew he would forgive us."

Charles laughed again. "Of course you did."

* * *

"Dear Elizabeth!" Jane Seymour called out, hurrying to the side of her younger sister. "What a happy day is this!"

"It has been long awaited," Elizabeth agreed.

"I knew from the moment they were introduced, our dear brother Edward would marry Anne Stanhope. I pray she shall make him happy."

"Do not waste your prayers, sister," Elizabeth muttered.

"Why- Elizabeth, what's the matter? Aren't you happy for our brother?"

"Indeed, I am not," Elizabeth says, "Why should he marry Anne Stanhope? Detestable woman. I declare, I think that Lucifer himself is not more proud than her."

"Do not be unfair, Elizabeth," Jane scolded gently, "For if our brother loves her, what matter are her faults?"

"He doesn't. He's tired of being the man whose wife had an affair with his father. He would marry anyone. The Stanhopes just got their claws into him first."

"I think that is not so," Jane insisted, "Edward has quite forgot unfortunate Catherine Fillol, and we need not think of her any longer either. Anne is bright and friendly."

"And snobbish and presumptuous," Elizabeth snapped.

"Stop it, Elizabeth, you're horrible."

"And you're naive."

"Girls!" their father put a hand on each of their shoulders, "Indeed, you must not quarrel today of all days!"

Elizabeth and Jane were meekly put in their place, and went to find the bride, whether she be loved by them or not.

Sir John shook his head and linked arms with his wife. "They are jealous, I think," he laughed, "They wish for weddings of their own."

"Of course, they're young girls. Do you try to find husbands for them?"

"Indeed. I look everywhere I go. Young men of good standing are just so scarce."

"How true," Lady Margery agreed, "Oh, my dear, is that John Blount?"

"I think it is," Sir John replied.

"I wonder that he isn't in the country, with his daughter," Lady Margery said quietly, then laughed.

"I rather wonder at his not being by the king's side, constantly begging him to marry his daughter."

"Does he really think the king would marry his daughter?" Lady Margery exclaimed with a laugh.

"Shh, my dear, lower your voice," Sir John laughed quietly, "But he does, he does. I always thought him a great fool."

"That is so," Lady Margery said, and continued walked.

Sir John was quiet for a moment, before saying softly, "You know, since Elizabeth Blount has been displaced as the king's mistress, it does leave room for another-"

"Sir John!" Lady Margery whirled towards her husband, "Surely you're not suggesting-"

"Margery, listen to me. Being the king's mistress does not have to mean going to his bed. There are other ways to gain his favour. Now that Mistress Blount has left court, he will be more open to companionship. If he finds one of our daughters attractive, God help me Margery, I will let him have her. If, however, he merely wants her as a companion, there will be no pesky mistress to get in her way. Do you see what I mean?"

"You are the fool if you think such a thing can happen," Lady Margery said, "The king doesn't take _companions_, he takes _mistresses_. Your claims of your daughters' virtue won't stop him if he wants one of them. And you'd let him have her, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," Sir John said bluntly, "As the king's servant, it is not in my power to deny him this. It is his right."

"It is _disgusting_," Lady Margery said, "And don't try to convince me now that you weren't hoping to push my Jane or Elizabeth into his bed. Sadly for myself, I can read your disturbing thoughts. Now, go away from me, John. Let me enjoy my son's second wedding, and hope for better things from Anne than from Catherine." Lady Margery released his arm and moved away from him.


	19. Chapter 19

_**Author's Note:** I'm in a little bit of disbelief that it's actually been two months (I think) since I've uploaded a chapter! That has to be a new record for neglect. Sadly enough, I've been busy and suffering from vicious writer's block. However, I've made this chapter considerably longgg, so I hope that should sort of make up for not uploading anything for so long!_

_Now, a common theme in my recent reviews seems to be the never-present Anne Boleyn. I wondered when someone would bring that up. I'm afraid Anne is being elusive as usual. I am an avid Anne Boleyn admirer, but I have consciously put off her entrance to court. One of the reasons is that each of the queens has had sufficient set-up before entering the story. Catherine of Aragon was brought in to marry Arthur. When she needed ladies-in-waiting, that was the perfect opportunity to bring in some of the other girls- Anne couldn't come in then because, in my mind anyways, she was still in France. The Annes Boleyn and Cleves haven't had sufficient set-up yet. You can't just introduce characters WILLY NILLY, you know :P But I assure you Anne Boleyn IS coming.. when I have confidence enough to do her justice._

_Maybe you'll see her here in Chapter 19? Enjoyy!_

**CHAPTER XIX**

Henry paced back and forth, his steps making forceful thumps as they hit the ground. "Is this any way to encourage good relations between us and France?" he demanded, glancing at Wolsey, who sat calmly at the far side of the room. "The damned ambassador is half an hour late."

"Perhaps he was delayed," Wolsey suggested.

"Or perhaps the lazy French diplomat doesn't realize who he's kept waiting," Henry snapped, "He shall be lucky if I do not consider this an insult to England, and declare war on his master and country immediately."

"Doing so should serve no purpose," Wolsey replied with good humour.

"It would satisfy me," Henry grumbled, "And perhaps put Francis in his place."

"I think we'd better try diplomacy first, majesty," Wolsey said.

Henry waved his hand dismissively.

It was not much longer before a small retinue of men entered into the king's chambers. Henry had managed to retain his composure, and received the men with cordiality. At the forefront stood the French ambassador, Gilles de la Pommeraie. He, along with the others, bowed with a flourish before the king.

"Your excellency," Henry said, "We expected you nearly an hour hence."

"Forgive me, your gracious majesty, I was much delayed by my lame horse and the fact that it _would_ rain, despite my fervent hopes to the contrary," Pommeraie said, words of charm and sweet appeasement falling like water from his lips.

"Indeed," Henry said, "Well, we have a great deal to discuss. What message does your master send to me?"

"One of goodwill, naturally, your majesty. My master, the king of France, is eager to start on his journey that will bring him here."

"And when, pray tell, shall he start?" Henry asked.

"My master expects to depart from France in a week's time, and arrive not long afterwards, God permitting," Pommeraie replied.

"Excellent," Henry said, "I am eagerly awaiting him. Now, as I say, we have many matters to discuss between us, but perhaps your excellency is weary from your journey?"

"I confess, your majesty, that I could benefit by something more relaxing than politics at the moment," Pommeraie admitted with a laugh.

"Naturally," Henry said with all due sweetness, "Which is why I've ordered a banquet for your entertainment this evening. Perhaps you'd like to be shown to your rooms until then?"

"Your majesty is all kindness," Pommeraie bowed low again.

"Very well," Henry waved him away and turned to Wolsey. "What do we think?" he said quietly as the French ambassador left.

"He appears to be capable of doing the job credibly," Wolsey said.

"He makes a great show of grovelling," Henry remarked, "I'm not complaining, but perhaps it will get tiresome?"

"Best to let the French grovel, your majesty," Wolsey replied, "It's what they do best."

Henry chuckled, pleased by any disparaging remarks against his sworn friends and enemies, the French.

"Majesty, as you commanded, I have located some potential brides for your consideration. Perhaps you would like to hear of them now?" Wolsey said.

Henry shifted uncomfortably. "Not just yet, Wolsey. Some other day." Henry got off his throne and walked out of the room, followed by his trusted advisor. "Today I dine with the ambassador, and tomorrow I have arrangements to dine with Catherine. After that, hopefully Francis will be here. In the meantime, we must work to make this court the finest thing England has to offer. How are the preparations coming?"

"They are coming well. Many people are hard at work to make the court as magnificent as ever. You're dining with Princess Catherine?" Wolsey tossed the last remark in quickly, eager to deduce what the nature of the king's relationship was with his former sister-in-law.

"Remember, no expense should be spared. And yes, I dine with the princess. What of it?"

"I only mean to hint, majesty, that the princess is _not_ on my list of politically beneficial matrimonial candidates."

"What?" Henry said, only half-listening.

"Majesty, only for the sake of England do I inquire, and with all humility, do you consider taking Princess Catherine as a bride?"

"Only for England, indeed?" Henry said, slightly accusingly, "I consider no one seriously at the moment, Wolsey. Keep your mind on your work."

"Of course," Wolsey said, parting with Henry at the next turn in the hall.

"More," Henry motioned with his hand and Thomas More joined him, matching his gait step for step. "You will be at this evening's banquet for the French ambassador, I assume?"

"If I am expected to be, then of course I shall," More replied.

"I wish to expose the ambassador to your mind. I think he'll be delighted. So don't forget to bring it with you tonight."

"My mind is at your command," More replied, and fell out of step with Henry just as quickly as he'd caught up with him.

Charles Brandon was moving in the direction of the king, and watched wistfully as Henry conversed with Thomas More. Once he, Charles, was the friend in whom Henry confided, the one in whom he entrusted his everyday matters. Despite being reinstated at court, Charles felt that he'd yet to achieve his former level of favour.

So convinced was Charles of his own worthlessness at this moment that he was greatly surprised when Henry barked out, "Suffolk!" and motioned with his hand.

Charles scrambled to Henry's side. "Majesty?"

"You'll joust tomorrow, in honour of the ambassador, won't you? And again when Francis arrives? I want the best of the best before the French."

"Of course, if your majesty wishes it," Charles said.

"I do," Henry said, glancing over at Charles. "And tell my sister your wife that she must attend as well, as the dowager French queen. I've arranged for her to be seated with the dowager Princess of Wales, for I know how they get along."

"Indeed, they do," Charles agreed.

"Then go and prepare yourself, Charles; these shall be an exciting few weeks, don't you think?" With that, Henry turned away and was gone. Charles, struck by the old familiar exchange, thanked God for his improving fortunes and went to tell Mary how the king was beginning to forgive him.

* * *

The banquet, set up for no reason but to dazzle the French ambassador with a great deal of pomp and circumstance, was underway. Immediately, it was a booming success. The ambassador was properly amazed, and Henry was, with equal propriety, fit to burst with pride.

Pommeraie marvelled as well as any ambassador had before him. He put the other foreign ambassadors, like those of Spain or Italy, to shame with his praise. Seated at the king's right hand, he had ample opportunity to make little comments sure to please his new master. Henry was properly delighted with him, and was now determined to make everlasting peace with his dear French brothers and friends.

Henry's fool danced before the men, poking fun at every opportunity. The princesses Mary and Catherine sat beside each other, laughing and talking like life-long friends. Wolsey and Charles Brandon hovered nearby the king, in case some command should escape from his lips that needed immediate attention. Thomas More was presented to the ambassador, and along with him came his ideas.

"More is one of the most intelligent men in my court," Henry told Pommeraie when More had once more taken his seat, and was out of earshot, "Have you ever met anyone with such an unhindered mind, and with such clarity of vision?"

"It is remarkable, majesty," Pommeraie said generously, "You must present him to King Francis, who is himself very much the intellectual."

"I did not think him so," Henry replied.

"Indeed, he is, majesty. King Francis is very interested in the world; he is a true Renaissance Prince."

"Is he?" Henry said, raising his eyebrows, "And what of my court, your excellency? Am I not as modern or avant-garde as Francis is?"

"Of course, France is hardly a fair comparison to King Henry of England's court. Never have I seen such desire for knowledge and innovation. Bien fait, votre majesté, bravo!"

Henry smiled, and was sufficiently flattered by the comments. He turned back to watch his fool jest and joke for his amusement.

"And indeed, majesty, I have so rarely had the pleasure of seeing so many pretty young ladies all at once. Your majesty must be congratulated."

"Yes, we have no shortage of beautiful women, your excellency," Henry replied.

"I believe I may recognize one or two. Can your majesty tell me who that pretty lady is, the one dancing just before us now?"

Henry looked in the direction that the ambassador gestured. The girl dancing just a few feet away was undeniably gorgeous. She moved with carefree joviality and laughed as she danced. "I don't know her," Henry said, watching the girl with newfound appreciation.

"She looks a great deal like the daughter of one of your ambassadors to France; a Monsieur Boleyn."

"Oh, Boleyn," Henry said, remembering his invitation to bring one of his daughters to court, "That may be his daughter. You remember her? She has made such an impression?"

"One may say so," Pommeraie replied, his voice growing thick with distaste, "Mademoiselle Boleyn had an incomparable reputation in France."

"Had she?" Henry said, barely glancing at Pommeraie.

"She is a great whore, infamous above all," Pommeraie answered.

Henry now looked sharply at the ambassador. "Is it so?"

"Hm," Pommeraie responded, nodding as he did so, "I thought never to see her again, at least not without disgrace."

"Your excellency must not speak so of an English subject on English soil," Henry said quickly, "Her past is no matter any longer. I am willing to let her reform her ways, should she wish it. And since I have heard of no lewd conduct on her part, nor indeed heard anything ill of her at all until this moment, I urge you to let her alone."

Pommeraie quickly bit his tongue. "You are quite right, majesty, forgive me. Your most gracious majesty's benevolence is most commendable."

Henry waved his hand quickly in Pommeraie's direction. "Now, since your excellency sets such store by reputation, there are a few ladies here at court that I have heard of, and all of whom have impeccable reputations."

"I do not doubt that your court is full of virtuous women."

"Look, there is such a one," Henry motioned across the room, "See that she does not even dance, so chaste is she."

"Elle est un ange; an angel, certainly."

"She is the Lady Jane Seymour. I am a great admirer of hers. She possesses wisdom and virtues abound," Henry said, "She takes after the example of the dowager Princess Catherine of Wales, whose service she is in. A more pious and Christian princess was there never, perhaps excepting my sister, the dowager Queen Mary of France. If you remember a simple ambassador's daughter, surely you remember a daughter of England?"

"La belle reine Marie! Of course, I remember her short time in France very fondly," Pommeraie said.

"Indeed. Now, excellency, I encourage you to dance. Shall we both walk, and I will personally introduce you to the lady Jane."

"It would be an honour," Pommeraie said, standing up along with the king.

The two moved in a roundabout way around the room, stopping to speak to someone here or there, making a introduction to this person or that. The king and ambassador approached the Seymours, where Henry began the introductions, "Sir John, it is my pleasure to introduce the French ambassador, Gilles de la Pommeraie. Your excellency, this is Sir John Seymour, a beloved fixture of my court and my own household, and his daughter Jane, as well as her brother Thomas." Bows and greetings, as expected, were exchanged. "Sir John, you have another daughter, Lady Elizabeth? And a son called Edward?"

"Yes, majesty, they are both dancing," Sir John responded.

"Perhaps, I could arrange to share the next dance with Lady Jane, if she is not already claimed?" Pommeraie asked.

Jane was surprised at the honour and smiled willingly. "Of course, your excellency, thank you. I am not thus far engaged for that dance."

"Excellent," Henry broke in, "Lady Jane must charm your excellency, with her many virtues. Now, pray excuse me, so that I might try to find so fine a partner elsewhere."

Henry quickly took his leave. Ambassadors were all the same; full of compliments and pleasing addresses that all too quickly grew stale. Henry hoped the French king was not as bland as his ambassador was.

Henry scanned the crowd quickly. His eyes were alert, and searching for the mysterious Boleyn girl. He was surprised at how quickly she'd become an interesting enigma to him. Was she just a young, fun-loving girl, or was she a lewd whore as Pommeraie had declared? Henry was eager to solve the puzzle of her personality.

There! He saw her! She was like a goddess amongst a group of mortals, a light in a dark chamber. Her glowing blonde hair bounced on her shoulders- it was long and free, a sure sign of her virginity. She was among both young men and women, and clearly the centre of attention. He heard her speak French, though her English accent was still pronounced, and she tripped over her words. Henry was amused by her alluring antics, and began to move closer to her.

So distracted was he by the lady's beauty, that he didn't see Baron Latymer before him. Henry walked into the baron, nearly knocking the poor man over. "Baron Latymer!" Henry said, reaching out a hand to steady the man, "Forgive me my clumsiness, I didn't see you."

"_Your_ clumsiness, majesty?" Baron Latymer exclaimed, "I was very much in the way, I fear. I declare, I do not know where to stand at these banquets. No place is safe. It was I, your majesty, who was clumsy."

Henry looked up and saw that Mary Boleyn was gone, disappeared into the crowd again. With a sigh, he turned his attention to Baron Latymer. "Well, you must sit, my lord, and enjoy the banquet arranged for the pleasure of gentlemen such as yourself."

"I would be sitting at this very moment, had I not just danced with the most delightful young lady I've ever known."

"Who is the lady that has interested you so?" Henry asked.

"You will not know of her, I think. Mistress Katherine Parr is a lady-in-waiting to the dowager Princess of Wales. I have known her since she was a little girl. Her father was my good friend, and after his death, her good mother has had to try very hard to keep her family together. Katherine and her sister Ann are here at court."

"Is that so?" Henry said, forcing interest, "Are they enjoying themselves?"

"Mistress Ann is very much at home here, and has never been happier. However, I worry for Katherine. She is sad here, and lonely. She has always been a solitary girl, always liking to sit alone with her thoughts. She has such clever little thoughts, though she keeps them much to herself. Yes, my lord, I am very distressed that she isn't happy among people, and I try my hardest to bring her cheer."

"Perhaps I could make myself useful, my lord. Where is Mistress Katherine? I shall try my hand at bringing her cheer."

Baron Latymer's eyes lit up. "Majesty! How very good of you! Allow me to introduce you to her! This is too good of you, and I know she shall be made considerably happier at having the honour of meeting you!"

"I must be careful, I think, not to nearly knock her over, as I did you," Henry said, putting his hand on Baron Latymer's shoulder in a friendly way, and let the man lead him across the room.

"Mistress Parr!" Baron Latymer called.

Henry saw a young girl, standing by the wall, turn her head suddenly towards the sound of her name. She was a pretty young thing, Henry decided- or she would be if she weren't scowling so decidedly. Her displeasure became a subject of bemusement to Henry almost immediately, and he found himself wanting to laugh at her cross little frown.

"Majesty, may I present to you Mistress Katherine Parr?" Baron Latymer said when they stood before the girl.

Henry bowed and Katherine curtsied. "Your majesty," Katherine murmured.

"Mistress Parr," Henry said, "Your friend Lord Latymer expressed a desire to introduce me to you."

"I am flattered," Katherine said.

Henry couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't mean what she said. What sort of girl was she, that she didn't care whether or not she made the acquaintance of the King of England? Henry shook off his surprise, and said, "Will you dance, Mistress Katherine?"

"Are you asking, majesty?" Katherine asked, seeming sincerely perplexed and unsure.

Henry grinned at her peculiarities. "Of course."

"Thank you," Katherine said, raising her eyebrows a little. She wondered what Baron Latymer had had to bribe the king with to get him to ask her to dance. Katherine took the king's hand, and let him lead her to the centre of the room.

As the dance begun, Katherine was quiet as she concentrated, counting her steps and trying to remember which way to turn. Henry watched her amusedly as she stumbled away. Only an intent watcher, such as Henry himself at this moment, could tell that she had very little idea what she was doing. "Don't you find pleasure in dancing, Mistress Katherine?"

"I am not good at it, majesty," Katherine said, "I think there is too much to remember!"

Henry laughed at this. "Let me lead you," he said, and began to count quietly so that only she could hear him.

Katherine was embarrassed, and unused to such teasing. Henry sensed this, and changed his approach. "Latymer tells me you are not happy here?"

Katherine sighed. "His lordship is too eager to tell my secrets."

"Don't you like my court?" Henry asked.

"Of course it's lovely. It is elaborate and very fancy. It's not where I belong, though."

"Where do you belong, Mistress Katherine?"

Katherine couldn't help but smile at the question, and Henry decided he would have to seek out that smile more often. "I belong in the Lake District."

"Ah," Henry said, "A beautiful place, truly. What do you like about it?"

"I like the scenery. I like the colours- the greens and blues, all different shades. I like my home, I like my own little rooms, I like my library."

"You have a library?" Henry urged her into more conversation.

"I call it my sanctuary," Katherine said, "I think I could read all day and not get tired of it."

"I suppose you don't dance often in the Lake District?"

"We do," Katherine said, "Just not exactly like this."

Henry laughed. "I remember when I was a boy, a little Duke of York running around, I liked banquets and dancing. Ladies of court would pay me attention, and my father would set me apart in the crowd, telling everyone I was his son. My brother, however, didn't like them. He was the quiet sort, his nose always in a book."

"I suppose I'd have liked him," Katherine said.

"Don't you like me, Mistress Parr?" Henry asked, tilting his head.

"I like all sorts of people. One of the sorts of people I prefer are the people who take the time to listen. Some people simply hear noises, and so they only hear the loud voices, who make themselves known. I like the people who can listen for the quieter voices, and pay heed to what they say. Are you such a man, your majesty?"

Henry looked at her curiously. "What an oddly profound thing to say," he said gently.

Katherine looked away from him quickly, growing ashamed at being so frank. "Forgive me, majesty, I spoke of things I don't understand."

"Mistress Parr," Henry said, "I was only surprised that a young lady could describe so exactly the sort of man a king should be," Henry clenched his fist slightly, "My brother was such a man."

"You're listening to me," Katherine said, "So you are such a man as well."

Henry looked at Katherine as curiously as ever. As the dance ended, he held her hand and said, "I hope you find your place here, Mistress Katherine. And I hope it is near me." Henry kissed her hand gently, "I enjoyed our dance." Henry moved away from Katherine with a quick step, trying to shake off the serious feeling that encroached on his light-hearted banquet.

* * *

If Pommeraie had any qualms about introducing one young, powerful ruler to another, he showed no signs of them. He was at King Francis's side as the king strode through Henry's court, almost as though he claimed ownership of it. Henry, however, was very determined that Francis would be in no way superior. Henry was king here, and he would make sure Francis knew it.

Francis went into Henry's throne room, where the latter sat, raised high on his throne. Both kings were bedecked with gold and jewels, their wealth presenting a mutual challenge.

Pommeraie gracefully scrambled forward and proclaimed, "May I present, His Most Christian Majesty, par la grâce à Dieu, King Francis the first of France and Burgundy."

Francis bowed to Henry as Henry's titles were announced; "Henry the Eighth, by the Grace of God, King of England and France, Lord of Ireland."

Henry raised himself off of his throne, and stepped down towards Francis. He held out his hands, and placed them firmly on the French king's shoulders. "Cousin," Henry said, "Brother."

"Brother," Francis replied, his French accent thick and elegant.

Henry smiled complacently. "How delighted are we are to have you here in England."

"We are honoured to be in your presence. May I present my wife, Queen Claude?" Francis held out his hand, and his pretty, dark-haired wife stepped to his side and curtsied. "Majesty," she said, her voice as sweet and dignified as her husband's.

"And my sister," Francis continued, "Marguerite d'Angoulême."

Marguerite, the striking and intelligent sister to the king stepped forward and curtsied. "Majesty."

"Majesty," Henry kissed Claude's hand, then Marguerite's, "Madam. Surely you all remember my sister, Dowager Queen Mary?"

Mary, the lady of highest rank at court, stood beside her brother, holding out her hand.

"Ah, of course, la belle reine," Francis said, "How France misses you, madam."

"Your majesty is too kind," Mary said.

"A beautiful sister, for my brother the king," Francis put his hand on Henry's shoulder, "But no bride?"

Henry ignored the comment. "Come, there have been events set up in your honour. A joust, followed by a banquet. Will you honour us with a display of your own jousting skills?"

"If you will, my friend," Francis said.

"I have every intention of doing so. My dear friend and brother-in-law, the Duke of Suffolk, will be participating. I should like to see if you could knock him off his horse," Henry commented, and Mary shot her brother a glare.

"I will try my best, if it pleases you," Francis returned with a laugh.

The young kings, accompanied by their noblemen, went immediately about competing. Francis and his men, dressed in royal, French blue, were eager opponents for Henry and his men, dressed in striking, Tudor red.

Catherine felt altogether foreign as she watched the jousting begin from the sidelines. She sat with Mary, the king's sister and her own dear friend, and Queen Claude, and the French king's sister. She had no Spanish friends there, except for the inattentive ambassadors. Try as she might to be as English as she possibly could, she could never quite reach her goal.

Catherine glanced at Henry as he strode towards his horse, barking orders, calling for his armour. She could almost laugh at his pride and desire to be greater than France, but she knew the dangers of a power-hungry, hot-headed king. They were dangerous, and unsteady. Arthur, she knew, would never have been as reckless as his younger brother was. Despite this, Catherine was drawn more to Henry than she ever was to Arthur. Arthur was a sweet boy, who had treated Catherine as tenderly as she could have hoped. Henry was a charismatic young man, whose temper always brought something unexpected to the day. Catherine twisted her hands together, and hoped for Henry's own pride's sake, that England won overall that day.

Catherine's ladies-in-waiting were nearby, giggling with excitement as they watched the lords and noblemen prepare for the joust. Catharine Howard and Madge Shelton whispered behind their hands about one or another of the young men, as Ann Parr watched everything with wide-eyed appreciation. Catharine's cousin Mary Boleyn watched the two kings, her eyes quick to take in what they were doing. Jane and Elizabeth Seymour were chatting with their new sister-in-law Anne, and all three of them kept watching for the brothers, Thomas and Edward. Katherine Parr was amused by the antics, and watched along with her sister, and with great interest.

Mary touched Catherine's hand. "Look at Henry," she said with a small smile, "I think if he doesn't win at something soon, he shall burst!"

Catherine laughed quietly. "He does look impatient. I hope for all our sakes he wins. He shall be in a terrible temper if he doesn't."

"I hope he doesn't knock my Charles off of a horse in one of his rages," Mary remarked.

"I think Henry is rather warming to Charles again, dear," Catherine told her sister-in-law.

"Wishful thinking, Catherine. Henry's wonderful at holding a grudge. He's chumming around with his other Privy chamber gentlemen. That lewd William Compton, for one, who keeps Lady Anne Stafford as his- well, I need not go into that. And Anthony Knivert, I never really took to him, though Henry likes him so. Henry keeps adding to his entourage. Francis Bryan has been moving up into his circles. He's here today, but I've seen that man joust. The way he goes, he'll lose a limb someday."

"Any one of them could," Catherine said, "If this is what men do for sport, I'm glad I'm a woman, and can't see what they do on the battlefield!"

"Battles are sport to them. Henry's joust with Francis today could easily turn into an invasion six months from now," Mary rolled her eyes, and then turned to the visiting Frenchwomen, so as not to ignore them. "Claude, Marguerite, can you see everything alright? I hope the dust has not reached your lovely gowns."

It was time for the first joust. It would be between, of course, the two kings. Henry mounted his horse, and set his eyes on his opponent with unbeatable determination. His resolve was matched by Francis's, as he mounted his horse on the other side of the field.

The attendants lifted the lances, and gave them to their respective masters. The two kings then rode towards the onlookers, to each ask for the favour of a lady.

Francis went without hesitation to his wife. "My queen," he said, loudly enough for Henry to hear the smug delight in his voice at having a queen.

Claude rose to oblige her husband. She was undeniably regal, and no one would possibly think less of Henry for desiring such a wife as the king of France had. Henry, however, had no intention of being put to shame by the matrimonial display. Henry rode forward and, instead of simply calling on his sister as the highest ranking woman, Henry called, "My lady, Princess Catherine."

Maria, standing behind Catherine, clasped her hands and gasped for joy. Catherine maintained her composure. She stood slowly, and then tied her favour to Henry's lance. He bowed his head to her respectively, and she did the same. "My lord," Catherine said softly.

"My lady," Henry answered in the same undertone, and with that he turned his horse and prepared to make battle with France.

Mary regarded Catherine with raised eyebrows as the latter returned to her seat. "My brother is very fond of you," Mary remarked, with a little smile.

Catherine nodded, and smiled brightly at Mary. "The king is most gracious."

"He is all chivalry," Mary agreed, turning her head to watch her brother in the midst of his competition.

The two kings sat astride their horses at opposite ends of the field. Francis lowered his visor slowly, taunting Henry with his nonchalance. Henry glowered at the king of France before slamming his own visor down to cover his face. Henry lifted his lance to his side, and prepared to aim.

The flag was dropped- the kings rode towards each other amongst cheers from the crowd. They raised their lances to strike, but neither more than nicked the other, so they turned and prepared to ride again. This time, Henry was determined not to miss. He furrowed his brow, and pledged not to fail. He couldn't fail, he _wouldn't_ fail.

They rode; the onlookers watched tensely. All of the courtiers feared the rage of their respective king should he lose the joust. Then, impact! One of the kings flew from his horse in a rain of wooden splinters. His opponent rode on, gloriously victorious! One half of the courtiers breathed a sigh of relief. The other half were more nervous than ever.

The visors were lifted. Blue-clad attendants rushed to the aid of the toppled king, while the ruler bedecked in red shouted joyfully from atop his horse.

"Oh, thank God," Mary whispered, taking Catherine's hand. "If Henry didn't win, I don't know what I'd do."

Claude leaned towards the English monarchs. "And I do not know what I shall do with Francis, since he has not won."

Marguerite turned to join the conversation. "Kings are the worst sort of men," she declared, "The world over is terrified of them, but all they are are spoiled little boys."

"And yet, what would we do without them?" Catherine said.

Marguerite scoffed. "My dear, there are other options."

"Marguerite!" Claude said, her tone scolding. She turned and smiled at Catherine. "Without kings, our world would not be the same. It is best to keep them on their thrones, and keep them happy."

* * *

The jousts continued on. The English courtiers battled the French ones, as valiantly as though they were on a field of war. Charles Brandon, to Henry's mild disappointment, was not knocked from his horse. The two nations held even for the most part, with one kingdom pulling ahead, then falling behind, and vice versa. It was difficult for both of the young kings to maintain their composure, when all they wanted to do was run hollering onto the field and pulverize each other.

Thomas Seymour hobbled off of the field after his joust. His French opponent had struck him at an odd angle at his side, which was enough to send him toppling under his horse. He had only nearly avoided being trampled, but was eager to ride again.

One of the ladies of the court intercepted him as he entered the tent set up for the English jousters. "Sir, are you hurt?"

"No, my lady," Thomas answered, knowing it was her duty as a lady-in-waiting to one of the great women at court to inquire after his well-being.

"May I offer you something to drink?" the lady said, holding out a cup.

"Don't mind if I do," Thomas said, gratefully taking the cup. He couldn't help but notice, as he chugged the refreshing drink back, that the girl was examining him with raised eyebrows. "Can I help you, my lady?" he asked with a frown.

"Forgive sir, are you sure you're not hurt?" she said.

"Why?"

"You're bleeding," the girl motioned to his leg, where a red stain began to seep into his clothes.

"Ah," Thomas said, "It appears I am."

"Shall I point you towards the surgeon?" the girl said. She was clearly becoming impatient with his attitude.

"Unless you'd like to dress the wound yourself?" Thomas flashed a grin, as he'd seen the Duke of Suffolk do a hundred times to a lady.

"Decidedly not," the girl said stiffly, "The surgeon is yonder, sir. Good luck." She pushed past him, and went towards another jouster, offering him the same greeting she'd delivered to Thomas.

Thomas watched the girl from afar for a moment, curious as to why she hadn't responded to his flirting. Was he being too obvious? Was it possible that she wasn't interested?

"Tom!" Thomas's sister Jane hurried up to him, "I'm glad you're unhurt, brother. Though you do look dazed. Have you seen the physician?"

"Janie, who is that girl- the one talking now to Francis Weston?"

Jane looked over. "Oh, that's Mistress Parr. Katherine is her Christian name. Why do you ask?"

"She's an intriguing little spitfire, isn't she?" Thomas said.

"Why do you say so?"

"I've never seen a lady so decidedly unhappy. What's made her so distressed, I wonder."

"I really couldn't say. Is she so unhappy? Should I speak to her?" Jane asked, eager to be made useful and help a fellow lady-in-waiting.

"Nevermind, sister. I don't think she'd take kindly to your sweet pestering. No, I'll find another way to find out what's on Mistress Parr's mind."


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note****_:_**_ Hello again! It has been... okay, a really long time since I've uploaded anything. Recently all the files got deleted off of my computer, plus I've been busy, etc. etc. etc., but that's not important now. Here is a brand new chapter! Since it's been so long since I've uploaded anything, I'd really appreciate a little bit of feedback with this chapter, and how you think the story's going. Thanks a million!_

_Disclaimer:__ I don't own any part of The Tudors, or any of the dialogue I've borrowed from the show._

**CHAPTER XX**

Henry returned to his privy chambers after a long day of hunting with the French King. His muscles were achy, and his clothes a little dishevelled after spending the whole day atop his horse, but he felt good- strong and alive. A day of hunting had the tendency to give him that feeling.

The lords of his privy chamber were scrambling around, preparing for the king to retire. Henry felt ready to drop from exhaustion, when one of his servants informed him that Wolsey was requesting an audience.

Henry stifled a groan. He was in no mood to discuss politics with Wolsey right now. One of the things he liked about Wolsey was his ability to manage the kingdom without the king's constant attention. Henry had never liked the dull parts of governing, and Wolsey seemed more than happy to look after them. It was an arrangement that Henry enjoyed immensely. If Wolsey was coming to consult the king about something, Henry supposed it must be important. He motioned for the servant to let Wolsey in.

Wolsey entered, his hands full of papers, and a look of focus on his face. Henry raised his eyebrows; Wolsey was a man on a mission.

"Majesty, I have the treaty here for your approval," Wolsey began.

"It's about time!" Henry remarked, "Francis has been here for nearly two weeks- we wondered if the treaty was ever going to be produced."

"Forgive me, your majesty, for all of the delays. It was no easy thing to work with the French diplomats on the matter of the treaty. At times we found it most difficult to agree on anything."

"I hope we can all agree on one thing; that an alliance between our two countries would be of great benefit to each," Henry said.

"Naturally, majesty, this was the goal," Wolsey nodded.

"And what do you think of the product of your two weeks' labour, Wolsey? Does the treaty have your approval?" Henry asked.

"Yes, majesty, I am very pleased with the results."

"Then I am satisfied," Henry said. If Wolsey approved, there wasn't much point in him reading it.

Wolsey noted the king's disinterest. In some ways, Wolsey liked being able to control things around the court. He was moving up in power in ways he'd never dreamed he'd be able to. On the other hand, he wondered if the young king ever intended to take an interest in the governing of his kingdom. During this visit from France, Henry seemed more interested in dazzling Francis with his exciting court than with inspiring good relations between the two countries. Despite Wolsey's own secret irritation with a king who doesn't really want to rule, he knew he could do great things in the kingdom himself, with the amount of power he was being gradually given.

"Now here's a question for you, Wolsey," Henry said, "How much longer is the French king to be in our midst?"

Wolsey couldn't hide a smirk. "I suspect Francis has begun to wear out his welcome?"

Henry tossed himself into a chair, and drank from a cup of water. "One king in a court is plenty," he remarked, "Indeed, I don't think I can stand Francis being here much longer."

"I believe that, once the treaty is signed, Francis will not be long in England."

"Thank God for that!" Henry muttered, "Now is there anything else, Wolsey?"

Wolsey considered for a moment. "The banquet has been set up for tomorrow evening, as your majesty commanded. A last display of good will before the treaty-signing."

"Good," Henry said, "Is that all?"

"There is also the small matter that you instructed me to look into."

Henry blinked at his minister, trying to remember what he'd asked him to look into.

"Potential brides, your majesty," Wolsey reminded him.

"Oh!" Henry exclaimed, "Well- we can save that for another time, I think, Wolsey."

"Very well, your majesty," Wolsey bowed and retreated.

Henry waved his hand dismissively after his advisor, and went to his bed. "Stupid political marriages," he mumbled into his pillow, "What a nuisance."

* * *

Henry twisted one of his golden rings around his finger, to give himself something to do with his hands. He glanced at King Francis out of the corner of his eye. The other monarch was grinning gleefully about him, particularly at the two wrestling figures before him; an Englishman and a Frenchman. The English wrestler was Anthony Knivert, who showed great strength by remaining standing under the force of the significantly larger French wrestler, one of Francis's nobles.

"Come on, come on!" Francis exclaimed, clapping his hands merrily.

Henry took a swig of his ale and tried not to glare at the other king. He knew Anthony couldn't fight much longer, and Henry dreaded facing Francis's triumphant smirk and demeaning comments.

With a final grunt of effort, the French wrestler tossed Anthony to the ground, who marked the force of the impact with a distinct cry of pain.

Henry slammed against the arm of the chair with one fist, letting the other hand rub along his jawline to relieve his frustration. Charles Brandon and the king's sister, Mary, watched Henry worriedly. "He's going to lose control sooner or later," Mary murmured to her husband.

"I have a hundred crowns that says he loses his temper in the next half hour," Charles replied.

Mary shot her husband a stern look. "His losing his temper could mean England going to war. No one wants that."

"Then let's hope he signs the treaty before he explodes, hmm?" Charles laughed.

Across the room, Francis turned to his rival king and smiled exultantly. "You see there, brother? In most things, we French excel you!"

Catherine of Aragon, sitting nearby, turned to look. She was astonished by the king's discourteous and boastful claim. He was a guest of the King of England- surely no well-mannered man, be he a king or not, would make such a comment against his host? Queen Claude, sitting beside Princess Catherine, also looked at her husband, but did not seem as surprised.

For his part, Henry merely ground his teeth together, and turned away, hoping that if he ignored the other king, perhaps he'd go away.

Francis didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with what he was doing, and so continued, "We have the greatest painters, the greatest musicians and the greatest poets at my court. We have some of the greatest intellectuals and philosophical minds," with this, he glanced at Thomas More, who Henry had so proudly introduced to Francis days ago, and smirked. Henry noted this, and turned back to glare at Francis. Francis, now taking full enjoyment from his rival's displeasure, continued, "We have the most revolutionary engineers and architects. And certainly, we have the most beautiful women. You can't deny this, can you?"

Catherine watched the discourse angrily. Who did Francis think he was? Henry turned away from Francis and Catherine managed to catch his eye. "Please stay calm," she begged him silently, "Please, pay him no mind."

Henry saw Catherine's beseeching looks, and gave her a slight nod. Catherine managed to relax a bit. Of course Henry's tact would keep him calm. He wouldn't have a disagreement with the French king, right here in the middle of a banquet, with the whole court watching, before the treaty had even been signed.

"And we have the best athletes," Francis continued to Henry's amazement, "The best wrestlers, certainly, as you just saw."

Henry's eyes narrowed, and he turned back to Francis, nearly spitting venom. "Are you sure?" he said, trying to maintain a bit of composure.

"What's that?"

"Are you sure that all of your wrestlers are better than mine?"

Catherine moaned silently. "Oh Henry," she wailed to herself.

Henry got to his feet, still glowered at Francis. "Do you want to prove it?"

Francis sighed, as though this were all a great inconvenience to him. "What are you suggesting?"

"I'm challenging you to a wrestling match," Henry said. He leaned forward, and said, his words laced with all the sweetness he could muster, "Brother."

Francis did not look eager to accept Henry's challenge, though the room had grown quiet and everyone turned to see his reaction. Francis turned his head away.

Henry smirked. "Coward," he said, loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Catherine buried her face in her hand, and Claude sighed.

"Merde!" Francis cursed, leaping to his feet, "I accept your challenge."

Henry tilted his head, keeping eye contact with his rival. "Groom!" he shouted, and pulled at his shirt. Francis moved away, and did the same.

Wolsey shot a frantic glance at Thomas More. This, he knew, could not end well. More stepped towards Henry and said, in an undertone, "Your majesty-"

Henry shot Thomas a furious glance, which told Thomas instantly that there was no calming Henry now.

Charles could barely contain a chuckle, though his wife gently smacked his arm. "Charles, enough!" she hissed. Catherine reached over and took Claude's hand, squeezing it gently.

"Madge, how exciting!" Catharine Howard, sitting in the midst of the crowd, whispered, clutching her friend's hand. "Isn't his majesty handsome?"

Katherine Parr, standing nearby, gave the younger girl a dirty look. "Trust a stupid girl like Catharine Howard to not know a bloody thing about politics!" Katherine silently fumed.

Mary Boleyn pushed past Katherine Parr to sit with her Howard cousins, with Jane Parker following closely behind. Mary settled beside Catharine to get a good look at the goings-on's. Jane Seymour stood with her brother, Thomas, who also longed to get a closer look. Francis Bryan, a friend of Thomas's, came to stand with him. "How entertaining it is to have two such hot-headed kings leading us, isn't it, Tom?" Francis Bryan laughed, gaining a disapproving look from Jane.

The kings were standing in the middle of the room now, nose-to-nose, hearing the rules being recited. Henry glared at Francis, who glared back, and both willed himself to not fall and face the shame of failure. With the cry of, "Fight on!" Henry gave Francis a hard shove, and the fight began.

"Come on your majesty!" Charles Brandon cried, leaping to his feet, "Come on Henry!" He was joined by William Compton, and the recovering Anthony Knivert.

"Come on, your majesty!" Catharine Howard exclaimed, and she and the girls around her giggled.

Henry circled his opponent for a moment, before lunging forward. The two kings were locked in a deadly grip, neither one losing a bit of force as they tried to throw their opponent to the floor.

"Henry's going to win!" Charles said confidently.

"Whatever happens, he's not going to win," Thomas More, standing nearby, said despondently. The king's sister, Mary, turned to look at More, worry darkening her eyes. She said mournfully, "There's no controlling him now, it seems."

More sighed. "Was there ever a way to do that?" The two of them were distracted by Francis's yell of anger as he tried to get the upper-hand. The kings grunted and groaned as they pushed each other, and the fight dragged on.

Wolsey thought of his surely ruined aspirations of a treaty with France as he watched the kings worriedly.

"Yes, your majesty! Come on, your majesty!" William Compton yelled.

"You've got him, majesty!" Francis Bryan cheered.

With a loud cry of effort, Francis shoved Henry hard, sending him flying to the ground. The English crowd moaned, while the French cheered. Henry's friends dashed forward. The ladies got to their feet for a better look. Princess Catherine twisted her hands worriedly.

Francis laughed, basking in his triumph, watching his opponent as he leapt to his feet. Henry's face was red, and tears of sheer fury threatened to fall from his eyes. "I want a rematch!" Henry shouted, trying to break free from the hands of Charles Brandon and William Compton. "Damn you, I want a bloody rematch!" Francis just laughed in his face. This only enraged Henry more, and he practically screamed, "Are you afraid?"

"Of what do I have to be afraid?" Francis asked mockingly.

"Of me!" Henry snarled.

"Let's have it, then!" Francis exclaimed.

Thomas More dragged Henry away from his friends, who loudly supported the cry for a rematch. "I won't sign the treaty!" Henry said to More, "I won't sign it, go and tell them!"

"Alright, if that's what your majesty wants-" Thomas began.

"I said I won't sign it! Go and tell them!" Henry grabbed Thomas violently.

"Alright!" Thomas grabbed Henry and shook him forcefully, demanding his full attention. "Alright! If you want the world to know that the King of England is easily changeable, shallow, intemperate, incapable of keeping his word, then of course, I'll tell them. After all, I am merely your majesty's humble servant!"

Henry struggled to catch his breath, and shot a glance back at Francis, who was laughing and talking loudly and boastfully. He then looked back at Thomas, and then walked away, regretting ever bringing the damned French king to his court.

* * *

Hours later, as the sun finally set and the court began to settle for the night, Henry sat in his chambers, pacing like a caged animal. He couldn't believe what had happened at that banquet. His father, Henry VII would certainly have never made such a display, nor would his beloved Arthur have been so foolish. Henry hadn't been able to avoid Catherine's eyes as he went out of the Great Hall, and he knew what she must have been thinking- what a boy he was; a stupid, heedless boy- not a king at all. Henry had been made a fool of by Francis, and Henry swore to himself that if ever the opportunity arose to kill Francis, or at least put him fully in his place, he wouldn't shrink from that chance.

There was a knock on his chamber door, but Henry hadn't been expecting anyone. He turned to look as Charles Brandon walked in. The Duke of Suffolk looked at first humble, and then sly as a smile crossed his face. "I thought your majesty might need some company for this evening."

Henry sighed and turned away. "I want to be left alone, Charles. I'm certainly not in the mood for one of your stimulating conversations."

"Forgive me, your majesty, mine was not the company I had in mind for you," Charles leaned closer, "And I think conversation is hardly on the agenda."

Henry looked at his friend and raised his eyebrows.

Charles moved out the door after bowing, and a young, hooded woman entered. Charles quietly closed the door behind him as he left.

Henry, who had been sitting on his bed, stood. "Who are you?" he asked, stepping towards the young woman.

The hood was lifted, and the woman looked Henry directly in the eyes. Henry was taken aback when he saw who it was. "Marguerite d'Angoulême?"

The French king's sister smiled at Henry. "Please, just call me Marguerite," she said, stepping towards the king. She reached out and brushed her hand against his neck, grazing a red mark left from his fight with Francis. "Is this a battle wound?" she asked with a smile.

Henry exhaled sharply and moved away, until he was standing, looking out of a window.

Marguerite sighed, and followed him. "My brother and I have always been close," she said softly, "But I am the first to admit that he can be- oh, what word would you English use?" She smiled as Henry turned to look at her. "A bit of a pig, non?"

Henry smirked, and turned back to the window. "I cannot help but agree," he said.

Marguerite chuckled, and deftly slid her hands along Henry's hips. "Perhaps he is not as gracious as he ought to be," she said. Henry turned to face her. "And I hate to think that your majesty should be left with such an impression of France. It is like a foul taste in one's mouth," Marguerite brought her lips close to Henry's, "Isn't it, your majesty?"

"Call me Henry," Henry said, slowly returning Marguerite's embrace.

Marguerite smiled, "And I should like to do everything in my power to remove that unpleasant taste from your mouth- Henry."

Henry felt Marguerite begin to lead him towards his bed. He grinned, "I'll certainly let you try, Marguerite."

* * *

Outside of the king's chambers, Charles Brandon met Wolsey, who was waiting there. "Well?" Wolsey said impatiently.

"Well, she hasn't come out again, so it's safe to say he hasn't thrown her out," Charles remarked, "What is the plan here, Wolsey? Surely she's not one of your political brides?"

Wolsey shook his head. "Certainly not. At this point, anything we can do to endear the French to his majesty again is very important."

"And- the French king's sister agreed to this? To be a pawn of politics?" Charles asked, raising his eyebrows, "From what I've heard of her, she is not a woman to be taken as a mere mistress."

"She won't be his mistress- she'll go back to France with her blasted brother. But Marguerite d'Angoulême is a political woman, and not one to shirk her political duty, and whatever that entails," Wolsey said pointedly, "And she knows the benefit of an English alliance, perhaps better than her brother does."

Charles couldn't resist a laugh. "Well there's only one thing to say to that!" he remarked, "What a woman!"


	21. Chapter 21

_Author's Note: Hello! Welcome back to The Bachelor! I hope everyone is enjoying it, though I don't get to work on it as much as I'd like to. I got to write my biggest part on Anne Boleyn so far, which was very exciting for me. You'll probably notice that it gets a little bit religious towards the end. My intention wasn't to make anyone uncomfortable, and the views expressed in that part of the story are just there to reflect the views of Catherine of Aragon, who was a strongly religious woman, as we all know. Anyhow, hope you enjoy Chapter 21, and pretty please **review**!_

* * *

**CHAPTER XXI**

It came as no real surprise to Henry that Francis decided to pretend that there was nothing wrong when next they met. It was at a last pre-treaty signing council meeting, two days after the wrestling match; Henry brought his councillors and Francis brought his. Francis waltzed into the room as though he owned it, and embraced Henry. "Brother, I am pleased to see you look so well. I think you were out of sorts when last we saw each other."

Henry smiled at Francis. "Perhaps I was, brother, but I so often find that good company, more than anything else, can bring me out of any unpleasant temper."

"Ah, I am flattered," Francis laughed, and patted Henry's shoulder before walking away to join his councillors.

"Wasn't talking about you," Henry muttered. As Charles Brandon came to stand beside him, Henry leaned over and said quietly, "I find I can much more easily tolerate that man when I remember that I get to laugh behind his back at things he doesn't know."

"I cannot help but think of how entertaining it might be, if he knew what you were doing with his own sister," Charles snickered.

"Maybe I'll tell him, just as he's leaving," Henry winked, and managed to pull a straight face as he went to speak to the other king and councillors about the treaty.

* * *

The treaty signing occurred the next morning. The entire event, having been arranged personally by Wolsey, was chock-full of grandeur and eminence. The kings entered, bedecked in jewels and finery. Both were solemn-faced and serious, and seemed equally dedicated to maintaining the gravity of the situation. Francis was followed in by his French nobles, as well as Queen Claude and his sister, Marguerite. Henry's nobles followed him, and his sister Mary and former sister-in-law, Princess Catherine. All of the rivalry seemed forgotten as the two countries came together to complete the thing that had brought them all there in the first place- this treaty of peace and security. Wolsey beamed with pride, and his was nearly the only face in the room that was not as solemn as could be.

Wolsey set the treaty on the table before them, and each reached for a quill pen. Henry glanced at Francis, who was looking back at him, and they each hesitated a moment. Henry finally reached over and signed his "Henry Rex" with a flourish, and Francis followed with his own signature.

Everyone could now breathe a sigh of relief.

The banquet held after the affair was much more relaxed. At some point, the musicians were told to strike up a tune, and the courtiers began to dance as food and drink were served. Henry sat between his sister Mary, and Francis. Francis indulged in a great deal of drink, and he began to get quite giddy under its influence. "How pleased I am that there is this agreement of peace between us!" Francis exclaimed to Henry, "Perhaps we must soon rise up against Ferdinand of Spain, who troubles me greatly."

Henry glanced at Catherine, Ferdinand's own daughter, who sat well within range to hear Francis's hardly whispered words. Besides a bit of tightening around the mouth, Henry could see no reaction. Of course, she was trained to not react to anything in public. How she always managed to keep her temper so beautifully in company was something that impressed Henry greatly. She could hold her head high with dignity in the most undesirable situations. A very queenly quality, Henry considered to himself.

Francis watched Henry as he watched Catherine. "Of course I mean no disrespect to the dowager Princess of Wales. Indeed, I have nothing but the highest admiration for the beautiful Princess Catherine."

At this, Catherine turned her head, and gave Francis a small nod, but would not smile at him. She turned away, and silently cursed the presumptive nature of the French king.

Henry let out a polite laugh in Francis's direction, when his eyes caught sight of Marguerite. She saw him staring, and returned the look. She smiled sweetly, her mouth curving up charmingly at the corners, and she maintained steady eye contact. Henry didn't try to hide his attraction to her, and stared openly, with a playful grin on his lips.

This exchange also didn't escape Francis's detection, though it seemed to please him considerably less. He looked from his sister, to Henry, and then back again. Seeing her brother give her pointed looks, Marguerite had the decorum to lower her eyes.

Francis still didn't like the looks Henry was giving his sister, and so playfully hit his shoulder, to get his attention. "Do you see that young woman over there, dressed in purple and gold?"

Henry tore his eyes away from Marguerite, and turned to see who the French king was referring to. To his surprise, he saw the daughter of Thomas Boleyn who had so interested him only a few short weeks ago. She'd seemed to disappear amongst the hundreds of courtiers, slipping from his memory, but upon seeing her again, Henry couldn't help but be startled by her beauty. The gown she wore complimented her blonde curls, and she was the centre of attention in her group, which consisted more of gentlemen than of ladies. "I see her," Henry said.

"Her name is Mary Boleyn, the daughter of your ambassador, with her brother, George," Francis began to smile, "I used to call Mary my 'English mare' because I rode her so often!" He burst into laughter.

Henry recoiled slightly at the French king's brash and insolent quip. Again, he laughed politely as Francis settled back into his seat. Francis was satisfied; Henry wanted to make eyes at French women? Francis had had more than enough experience with English women.

Henry raised his eyebrows as he watched Mary Boleyn, as she stood up to dance. Was she just what everyone had told him she was? A Great Prostitute, an English mare? Was the sweet face of innocence a façade? Henry began to wonder about the women of his court. If Mary Boleyn could have the appearance of an untouched maiden to disguise her status as a fallen woman, who else could be hiding a dark secret?

* * *

Thomas Wyatt walked with quick, eager steps over the grassy hills near his home in Kent. His eyes searched the hills with anticipation. Thomas had been starting his days with a little more enthusiasm since the Boleyns had returned to Hever Castle. George and he became good friends, often spending days together hunting or discussing poetry and literature. Mary had been good fun before she went to court- always there for a laugh, and she was his kindest critic when it came to his poetry. Despite his affection for both George and Mary, Thomas couldn't deny that the Boleyn he held dearest in his heart, was black-eyed, beautiful Anne.

Anne had become his friend as eagerly as he became hers. Their characters were evenly matched. When Anne flew into a temper, as she often did, Thomas had the humour necessary to bring her out of it. It was no good fighting with Anne- Thomas learned quickly that the best thing to do was to let her calm down on her own. When she was bad she was horrid, but at her sweetest there was no limit to her charm. When she first learned he was a budding poet, she cried, "Oh, I love poems. Recite one for me, Master Wyatt!" After he recited what he considered his best, Anne had smiled her dear, crooked smile and said, "Would you write me a poem one day?" He replied without hesitation, and to her delight, that he'd already begun to compose half a dozen in her honour, on the spot.

So as he hurried towards Hever Castle that day, with George and Mary both at the court with their father, Thomas had no reason to deny that he came solely to see Anne.

He found her in the gardens of Hever, but he could tell that she hadn't been alone very long. He could see a carriage drawing away from the castle. Anne held a small rose in her hand, and he doubted she'd picked it herself, for she stared at it intently with a small smile on her face.

Thomas tossed himself on the bench, at her side. "Mistress Anne, what does distract you so? You didn't even hear me coming."

Anne looked up at him. "Hello Thomas. I didn't know you were coming today," she smiled, "I'm glad of it, though. George is expected at any time now."

"Who was that?" Thomas asked, motioning to the retreating carriage.

Anne glanced at it, and when she turned back to look at him, her eyes fairly danced. "Surely you've heard that Lord Henry Percy has been in Kent, visiting relations of some sort."

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Henry Percy? Isn't he set to be duke of something-or-other?"

"Lord Percy will be the 6th Earl of Northumberland," Anne said.

"Oh," Thomas said, leaning back and crossing his arms sullenly, "What does he want at the humble Boleyn home?"

"He's been here quite a lot, actually, ever since we met," Anne laughed, "I think he may be forming an attachment to me."

Thomas narrowed his eyes. "Poor fellow."

Anne gave Thomas a sideways glance. "Would that be so terrible?"

"Oh, certainly not," Thomas said, but his tone left Anne unconvinced.

"Thomas, what is it?" Anne tilted her head with curiosity, "Tell me what you're thinking."

"Nothing, only-" Thomas hesitated.

"Tell me!" Anne insisted, grabbing his arm playfully.

"I would only hate to see you waste yourself on such a man!" Thomas admitted.

Anne leaned back, releasing his arm, and frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I've met Lord Percy, through those same relatives you did. Come, Anne! Doesn't he strike you as a bit dull? I think that if he spoke of anything besides his dogs and the weather, I'd die of shock," Thomas remarked.

"He isn't dull. Perhaps he doesn't prattle on as some people do, but when did that become such a terrible thing?" Anne asked. She watched Thomas's face as he shook his head at her. "What sort of man would you have me 'waste' myself on?" she asked, a bit sarcastically.

"I wouldn't have you waste yourself at all," Thomas said, "But if you must marry, as women are wont to do, marry a man who can keep up to you. Your wit and intelligence is such as I've never encountered in any other woman. Percy wouldn't be able to think as quickly or as cleverly as you do, and you would surely find him dull in time. Find a man who equals you in character. Percy doesn't."

"Is that so?" Anne said, raising an eyebrow, "Where would I find such a man?"

Thomas crossed his arms. "Not in Northumberland, surely."

Anne sighed. She liked Thomas, and appreciated everything he was. He was clever and kind, and he clearly enjoyed her company. But every now and again, Thomas would end up in a sort of melancholy, and Anne always felt an unpleasant obligation to lift him from it. His artistic temperament was, at times, too much to be borne. "Don't sulk, Tom. Perhaps you only mean to prevent me from entering a marriage such as your own, where you and she are so ill-suited. But I haven't had any declarations from Percy, nor may I ever. I only said he admires me, and how can you begrudge me that?"

"Nor will you have declarations from that mouse of a man," Thomas muttered.

Anne shook her head and grinned at him. "So what have you to worry about?"

Thomas looked deep into Anne's eyes. "I worry myself to death all the time, dreading the day that you find a husband."

Anne was slightly taken aback. She looked down at her hands, and twisted them for a moment, before looking back at him with dark, inquiring eyes. "How can you say that?" she asked quietly.

"How can I not?" he asked. Laughing suddenly, he took her hands and kissed the backs of them.

"Thomas, stop it. I don't like your games," Anne pulled her hands away and got to her feet, and began walking away from him, down the path.

Thomas leapt to his feet and dashed in front of her, cutting off her path. "I don't play games. I can only be honest and hope I don't make a fool of myself," Thomas took a deep breath and said, "I really must know what you think of me."

Anne tried to move around him, but he held fast to her arm. He surprised himself by his forwardness. A steely determination came into her eyes, and she pulled her arm away with great force. "I think you are a fool, and I've seen dozens of fools just like you, and believe me, I know how to handle them."

Thomas laughed at this and declared, "Nay, Mistress Anne, you've never seen the like of me- that I promise you."

Anne shifted her eyes away from him, and sighed, shaking her head. "Well, alright then." She looked him dead in the eyes now. "Prove it." And with that, she turned and made a beeline for the castle, ignoring George who walking into the gardens, expecting to be greeted warmly.

George blinked after his quickly retreating sister, and then shot a glare at Thomas. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

Thomas, unfazed by George's protectiveness, grinned merrily. "I think your dear sister has just given me permission to try and woo her!"

* * *

Catherine of Aragon watched from her window as the French company were preparing to leave. King Francis and his entourage of hundreds were finally on their way out of England. Catherine knew that Henry was overjoyed, though he tried to hide it when he was with Francis.

Catherine was dressing to see the French diplomats off. She wanted to look her best- in addition to being a representative of England, she was still a daughter of Spain, and she wanted to make sure Francis never forgot it. While she didn't have quite the amount of influence with Henry she'd have liked to, she still had more than Francis did, and she still spoke for the interests of her father, the Spanish king.

As she was dressing, she heard a few of her ladies chatting quietly in the next room. One voice, as usual, was a little louder than the others. "I am surprised at the French king, for not paying more attention to you, cousin Mary," Catharine Howard declared, "I'd heard you got to know each other very well in France."

"I did speak to King Francis when he was here," Mary Boleyn insisted softly, "He did not insult me by any means."

"Well he did not show you any especial fondness," Catharine continued.

"Nor would he, in the presence of his wife," Elizabeth Seymour cut in critically.

Both Mary Boleyn and Catharine Howard turned to look at Elizabeth Seymour, surprised by her sudden joining of the conversation. "Queen Claude was very kind to me when I was in her household," Mary retorted.

"As any gracious lady would be. And I'm sure the king was also kind to you, when he was here- but a king would never be anything more than polite to a lowly maid he had a dalliance with. I'm surprised that the Howards persist in believing that the best way for a woman to better herself is through affairs and not marriage. A Seymour girl would not be so foolish," Elizabeth said haughtily.

"But a Seymour man, on the other hand, has no qualms about having affairs," Lady Jane Parker broke in, "As your father demonstrated."

Elizabeth grew defensive at the mention of this shameful thing that was supposed to be a family secret, "All I know is that no one in my family was ever called The Great Prostitute."

A collective gasp echoed among the ladies present, and Mary Boleyn looked as though she didn't know what to say.

Elizabeth continued, "A person ought not be judged for their faults, I think, but for the level of repentance in their hearts. And you, Lady Mary, I daresay are as shameless here as you were in France!"

"Perhaps you've heard, Lady Elizabeth, that my cousin is engaged to Sir William Carey!" Catharine Howard exclaimed.

"And I have only ever been faithful to my betrothed," Mary added.

"For now, I suppose," Elizabeth shrugged, "But I've noticed a common theme among people- once a whore, always a whore."

Princess Catherine had been listening subtly the whole time, and now she called, "Lady Mary, bring my rosary to me, please."

Mary Boleyn, tears of shame and fury stinging her eyes, immediately went about serving the princess while the other ladies dispersed. She got the rosary from its place by Catherine's bed, and took it to her. "Your highness," Mary said as she held it out, and Catherine was touched by her shaking voice, a clear sign of her humiliation.

As Mary handed Catherine the rosary, Catherine grasped Mary's hand, with the rosary held fast between them. "Lady Mary, God loves all of his earthly children," she said in a soft voice, "And those who truly and honestly repent their sins will be welcomed by him into Heaven, regardless of the judgements of their peers," Catherine smiled, "It is a thought that comforts me deeply in times of trouble."

Mary looked into Catherine's eyes, and knew that the deeply religious princess spoke only to give Mary some support. Mary had never been very religious, though her family were all devout. Somehow, the princess's words about the loving kindness of God didn't feel like something shouted at her by a priest or zealot, and she allowed herself to be comforted a little by it.

Catherine, kind-hearted as she was, would come to find that this was one of the few and last times in her life when she would want to offer comfort and support to a Boleyn or Howard.

* * *

Edward Stafford, the Duke of Buckingham, watched King Henry and King Francis as they took their leave of one another. Buckingham rolled his eyes as each tried to stand up taller than the other, and made sure they stood in light that was sure to show off the glittering jewels that their outfits consisted of. In Buckingham's eyes, they were both dazzling examples of the vanity and self-importance that dominated Europe. He could hardly stand to watch without feeling ill.

Thomas Howard, the Duke of Norfolk, and his brother-in-law Sir Thomas Boleyn moved to stand beside Buckingham. Buckingham turned to them, and said scathingly, "What a display, think you not?"

"A display, your Grace?" Norfolk said.

"Yes. This visit was a golden opportunity for both England and France to review their policies- to make relations more easy between them. Europe would have been more stable- a better place for everyone. But look!" Buckingham looked again to the young monarchs and scoffed, "All they are interested in doing is dominating each other. This would never happen, had we a king who focused on politics, and not his own vanity."

"Your Grace is very critical of our king," Boleyn said carefully.

"Well, as a descendant of Edward II, with my own legitimate claim to the throne, naturally I am critical of how it is upheld, my lord," Buckingham answered.

Norfolk and Boleyn exchanged a glance, each wondering if it was in their interests to let Buckingham ramble on in this potentially treasonous way. "I was not aware of your significant disapproval of our king," Norfolk finally said.

Buckingham shook his head. "He is certainly not his father. He is young, though- I should very much like to see him mend his ways, or else move aside and let someone capable run this kingdom. And perhaps if he did not surround himself by men of low birth, he would find better council!"

Norfolk and Boleyn knew at once who Buckingham was referring to. Thomas Wolsey was standing only a few feet away from the king, bidding farewell to French diplomats himself. Norfolk's eyes narrowed at the sight of this butcher's son so close to two of the most powerful men in Europe- one of whom was so dangerously under Wolsey's influence.

"And if he had a potential wife who was not his once sister-in-law, I'm sure God would smile more upon his reign," Buckingham continued. Having found listeners, he was eager to make his opinions on the young king's reign completely known.

"I wonder if it is not jealousy that causes your Grace to speak so," Norfolk said.

"Jealousy?" Buckingham scoffed, "No, your Grace. My criticism is based on my confidence that there are others who are better suited to be king than Henry Tudor."

"Such as?" Boleyn prodded gently, "Yourself, for instance?"

"As I've already said," Buckingham shrugged, "My claim is legitimate."

Norfolk cleared his throat, glancing around to be sure no one was listening. "Treason, your Grace."

"No, just an observation," Buckingham said before walking away, glancing over his shoulder at the young kings.

Norfolk and Boleyn watched Buckingham stalk away. "We'll have to keep an eye on him," Norfolk commented.

"He'd do well to watch what he says, and to whom," Boleyn replied, "Others at court might not be as understanding as you or I."

"Hm," Norfolk said with a nod, "Well, we'll monitor the situation. Speaking of situations, Thomas, perhaps you've noticed King Henry has been paying particular attention to your daughter, Mary?"

"Certainly not!" Boleyn exclaimed, "I thought the king was having an affair with Francis's sister- an ill-kept secret indeed!"

"He was, to be sure, but she is leaving- and the king has been staring at Mary for weeks. Perhaps the time approaches to introduce her to him, formally?"

"Yes, perhaps so," Boleyn agreed readily.

Norfolk shook his head at his brother-in-law. "I never knew you to overlook something like this, Thomas. In France, when the king took notice of Mary, you took immediate control of the situation."

"Yes, but here I've been concentrating on a legitimate marriage for Mary- she's engaged to William Carey, you know, a member of the king's Privy Chamber. That said, for her to have the ear of another king would be of monumental importance to the Boleyn family," when Norfolk shot him a glance, Boleyn quickly stammered, "And-and the Howard family, naturally."

Norfolk nodded, "Naturally." He glanced from Mary, who was among Princess Catherine's ladies, back to the king, who was watching Francis and his entourage gallop away. "Put her in his way, Thomas, and we will surely reap the rewards in a little time. With Mary's beauty and experience, it cannot take long."


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note:** I know it's been a seriously long time since I've updated this, and I hope you haven't lost interest! Enjoy!

**CHAPTER XXII**

With the French gone, all went back to normal at Henry's court. Politics could quietly move to the back of Henry's mind, and he could focus on the things in life he really wanted to.

With a resounding grunt of effort, Henry used his racquet to slam a fast-moving ball back across the room where it had come from. Charles Brandon reacted quickly, and smoothly matched the strength in Henry's hit. His face quickly growing red with agitation and exertion, Henry leapt to hit the ball back to Charles. Charles dove for the ball, but despite his efforts, missed. Henry shouted happily, and laughed. He took a cup of ale from an attendant and called, "You're losing your edge, Charles!"

Charles struggled to catch his breath. He waved his hand. "My lack of practice is your only advantage!" he called.

Henry, in good humour, laughed at this. "Don't you wish it were so?" he mocked his friend.

Charles accepted his own drink, and kept his eyes on the happy king while he threw back his ale. Ever since the dilemma with his marriage, Charles felt he had to walk on tiptoe when he was near Henry. Charles knew that the old Henry he knew was gone, and that his own life now- this courtly life- would only be maintained by keeping the new Henry happy. If he had to lose a tennis game now and again, what did it matter?

Charles couldn't help but be a little resentful of his wife Mary. Mary had initially been like Charles- determined to be careful and discreet in Henry's presence. However, Mary soon found that she could take up her old spot again and be on par with Henry. Everyone knew Charles would never be their equal.

That said, Charles knew that Mary could all too soon be replaced. All Henry need do was marry.

Charles couldn't understand why Henry wasn't married yet. It wasn't as though he wasn't popular with women. He was the king of England for God's sake- and a young, handsome and athletic king at that. If Henry wanted to marry for politics, there were several choices. Wolsey had worked hard to procure a list, but Henry hardly glanced at it. If Henry wanted to marry a beautiful woman, and one likely of bearing children, there were certainly English girls who would satisfy that need. Every nobleman and courtier threw their daughters under Henry's nose. Henry noticed, of course, but took none of them seriously.

So what on earth, Charles wondered, was Henry waiting for?

* * *

There she was again. Henry shifted in his seat and chewed absentmindedly at his fingernail. Every night, when he saw her prance around his court, he watched. Her blonde curls danced to the music as her feet carried her across the floor. Her baby blue eyes sparkled as she flirted and teased the courtiers- and Henry couldn't help but feel jealous. All he had to do was go up and get her- it was too easy. It was so easy, in fact, that it was almost tedious. But still, he knew he would do it, if only to experience the pleasure of Mary Boleyn's big blue eyes staring back at him.

Maybe she wouldn't be as easy as he anticipated. Henry loved a challenge, but Mary Boleyn didn't seem to be one. This certainly didn't deter him, though. He wanted her more than anything and anyone else. He needed to have her, and knowing that she was within his reach was certainly a comforting notion.

If he really wanted a challenge, Henry mused, there were other girls who could have presented him with that. Lady Jane Seymour, for instance. Virginal and sweet as she was, Henry could imagine that she would resist him a little. He had no doubt that Lady Jane could be won with a little effort, but the need to woo her was there nonetheless. Katherine Parr, who had sparked Henry's interest a few weeks ago (ironically, with her disinterest) would be a bit more of a challenge, Henry guessed. He wondered if she would be worth it at all. He knew that she would take a lot of convincing.

Now Henry looked at Catherine of Aragon, his late brother's widow. Now there was a challenge. And yet- perhaps not. She would never sleep with him, Henry knew that. But if he wanted her, all he would have to do was snap his fingers. Everything else could come with time.

Henry was determined. He would have Mary Boleyn.

* * *

"Who on earth is he staring at?" Sir John Seymour asked his son Edward.

Edward glanced from the king to the girl who'd caught his attention. "It appears to be Thomas Boleyn's daughter."

"Norfolk's niece?" Sir John scowled, "Well, that will not do. As if Norfolk didn't have enough influence with the king! I'd so hoped the king would notice your sister Elizabeth!"

"Oh, was that your plan?" Edward mused, keeping his focus on the monarch.

"Indeed! She is certainly young, but she has a way with men. I don't know why he hasn't noticed her."

"Have you put her in his way?"

"Of course. She is in the dowager Princess of Wales' household. I recommend her for anything that would put her closer to the king. I mention her whenever I am even in earshot of his majesty! What else need I do?" Sir John said, exasperated.

"Perhaps you are mistaken, and Elizabeth is not the sort of girl the king is interested in," Edward commented.

"What do you mean? Doesn't she bring to mind his last mistress? Dark haired, buoyant, intelligent?"

"Yes, exactly. He tired of his last mistress. Look at Mistress Boleyn," Edward motioned towards Mary, "This one is bright and blond and constantly smiling. Who does that bring to mind?"

Sir John considered for a moment, and then his eyes widened. "Jane?"

Edward shrugged. "He has already shown interest in her. Remember when he kissed her a few months ago? He even introduced her to the French ambassador, and praised her up and down. As a matter of fact, Father, I am surprised you did not cultivate that connection more!"

"Indeed, I am surprised myself," Sir John blinked, "How could I have been so blind?"

"Well, you've seen the light now. Go with Jane, not with Liz. Who knows how far Jane could carry an affair?"

"You- you don't mean marriage, do you Edward?" Sir John asked, astonished.

"Well, Father, I do think that should be the ultimate goal," Edward said, raising his eyebrows.

"Why yes," Sir John said, "Yes of course!"

Edward sighed. Perhaps he didn't have the respect in his heart that a son should have for his father. But then, could anyone blame him? His father had never done much to inspire any grand devotion- sleeping with Edward's wife had been the last straw. However, family was family. Edward knew that the very best way to get ahead in court was to add the very best people to your family, and to work together to raise everyone as a whole. Although that meant that they had more to lose, it also meant that the Seymours could live in infamy forever- if Edward played his cards right.

* * *

Anne Boleyn paced slowly up the gallery in Hever Castle, perusing through a new book that she'd lately procured. Her sister, brother and father were all at court and her mother was tucked away in her chambers with a headache. Anne hated being left behind. Though she loved Hever Castle, she'd grown used to court life. There was more to be seen and experienced there, and more excitement to be had. With all of the influence her father bragged of, Anne couldn't imagine it being too difficult for him to get her a position in some fine lady's household at court. Why did Mary get to go? Mary didn't even really like court!

The door at the far end of the gallery swung open, and Thomas Wyatt popped his head in. He let out a high whistle. Anne looked up from her book, and snapped it shut with a sigh when she saw him. "Tom, how did you get in here?"

Thomas chuckled and entered the gallery. "Your castle is not so well guarded as you would imagine," he said, striding up to her.

"I think you will not find such easy entrance into other places here," Anne smirked and turned away.

Thomas caught up to her easily. "Why do you tease me?"

"You tease me," Anne remarked, "I am only keeping things fair."

Thomas laughed. He leaned forward to kiss her, but Anne stepped away. "How is your wife, Thomas?" Anne asked, walking back the way she'd come.

Thomas sighed. "Nasty. Cold-hearted and loveless. I am much more interested in your well-being. How have you been?"

"Oh, fine. My father has apparently been arranging a marriage for me."

"Indeed?" Thomas frowned, "With whom?"

"James Butler, an Irish cousin of some sort. His marrying me would apparently sort out the problems with the earldom of Ormonde. However, the possibility of that marriage taking place seems to be less every day. I've barely even heard about Butler for more than a fortnight."

"That is an infinite relief," Thomas exclaimed.

Anne shot him a glance. "Do you know, Henry Percy visits me daily."

"I know."

"You know?" she cried indignantly.

"Of course I know, you goose!" Thomas exclaimed, "Did you think I wouldn't keep an eye on the situation!"

Anne stared at him for a moment, but couldn't resist a laugh. "You're incorrigible!"

Thomas pulled her arm under his, and they sat in a window-seat. "You don't love him, Anne," he said, "You can't love him."

"I can love him easily," Anne replied, "He is sweet, and good, and loyal."

"Do you mean to say I'm not loyal?" Thomas demanded, "Just because of my wife!"

"I only mean to say that he would stand by me, and give me the sort of life I desire," Anne replied, "You're not being fair to him. I've come to care a great deal for him."

"Oh Anne," Thomas sighed, "Do you love him? Do you feel for him the passion that burns? Do you desire him?"

Anne pushed back her dark hair. "I think I do love him. Given time, I will love him even more."

"It will not be enough. Love cannot be thought up. You cannot create passion in your head," Thomas said.

"I can," Anne stated, "I could be everything to Henry Percy- his whole world and his whole life. I want to be that for someone."

"You are that- for me! You know it."

"No," Anne said, "Not while you have a wife."

"I'm getting a divorce," Thomas declared.

"Yes, I'd heard you separated," Anne said.

"And a divorce is soon to follow, I promise," Thomas said, "If you'll give me time, I will soon be free to be everything that you want me to be. I know you want me. Just say it, Anne."

"Thomas, I can't- you can't force me into this," Anne said angrily.

"I'm only asking you to admit what I know is in your heart," Thomas said, reaching for her. He took her hands in his and looked deeply into her dark, troubled eyes, "Say you love me."

"Tom, you're a dear friend and I will confess that I care for you-" Anne said.

"I will have none of this," Thomas said, and leaned forward, kissing her forcefully on the mouth.

Anne struggled and pulled away. She reached forward and slapped him soundly across the face. Then she stared, startled. "Tom, I'm sorry, but- but you can't just go around kissing people when you're married!"

"Alas, madam, for stealing of a kiss," Thomas said quietly, "Have I so much there offended? Have I then so grievously amiss that by no means it may be amended?"

"Don't start quoting your poetry at me, Thomas Wyatt," Anne scolded.

"Then revenge you, and the next way is this," Thomas continued, pulled her closer. Anne didn't struggle. "Another kiss shall have my life ended- for to my mouth the first my heart did suck. The next shall clean out of my breast it pluck!"

"Go away, Thomas," Anne murmured.

Thomas shook his head, and pulled her closer still. "You love me, as I love you," Thomas said, his heart nearly bursting with joy. Anne let Thomas kiss her again before gently pushing him away.

Anne examined him sadly. "It is no good."

"A love like this can only be good," Thomas replied, "And I will be a saint, so as not to anger the gods and bring about trouble on us."

Anne smiled slightly, "Can you be saintly, Tom? I wonder if you can."

"For you? Anything."

Anne put her hand in his. "I do care for you, enormously."

"That is the most beautifully indirect way for you to tell me you love me- but I will get the words out of you soon!"

"You seem confident."

"I am. You cannot always be so guarded, Anne."

Anne laughed. "Watch me. You may be surprised."

* * *

Weddings ought to be happy occasions, and often they are. Princess Catherine couldn't help but feel that weddings in the English court weren't as joyous as they tried to appear.

Catherine knew that people considered it an honour when she attended their wedding service. What no one knew is that Catherine always felt a small pang of resentment whenever she attended a wedding. She was secretly jealous that it wasn't her who was joining with another in holy matrimony. That was what she had been raised for, and now, she felt her life and the meaning it had once had was slipping away.

Mary Boleyn, to her credit, looked thrilled as she became Mary Carey. Catherine couldn't help but feel happy for the girl, even though Catherine doubted she herself would ever feel such happiness. Of course, she couldn't deny that the marriage of Mary Boleyn was comforting to her- another one of her ladies-in-waiting was taken out of the sight of the king, and tucked under their husband's protection. Not that Henry hadn't stooped to seducing a married woman before, Catherine realized, but it was easier for him when the lady was unmarried. Henry was lazy- Henry liked things to come easily, though he'd never admit that.

Henry also attended the wedding, as William Carey was in his Privy Council. When William and Mary were wed, Henry went immediately to congratulate them, by shaking William's hand and kissing Mary's. Henry left soon afterwards, but Catherine stayed to watch the festivities. As usual, she was fascinated by English culture and traditions.

Maria, Catherine's most trusted lady-in-waiting, took the seat by her side. "They say the king is in love with Lady Carey," Maria said, matter-of-factly.

"I don't believe it," Catherine said, "He gave permission for the couple to marry. Why would he have done so, if he wanted Mary himself?"

"He can still have her. Mark my words, my lady, he will have her," Maria said as she watched the blushing bride and her new husband.

"I think you're wrong, Maria."

"Even if I am," Maria said, "When was his majesty last in your company, my lady?"

"Maria de Salinas, hold your tongue," Catherine said in quick, irritated Spanish, "I will not be spoken to in this way by a servant."

"Your highness, forgive me. I said what I did out of love and concern for you. I see how you look when you're alone- so forlorn and lonely. It breaks my heart, and I would like nothing better than for the king to accept you as a bride. However, with his temperament, I cannot see it happening. I am sorry for speaking plainly."

Catherine inhaled deeply, and swiftly took hold of her temper. "Of course, I know the love you bear me, Maria, my most faithful friend. Forgive my harshness- you did not warrant it."

"The one who does warrant it is his majesty," Maria sighed, "I do think we will be outcasts here forever."

Catherine shook her head resolutely. "I will hold on hope. We will not live like this forever."


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note****:** _Once again, it's been awhile since I've written or uploaded anything. I've had this chapter ready for awhile, but I didn't want to put it up until it was completely ready. Hope you enjoy it! I'd appreciate any reviews- I'd love to know where you suspect the story is going, or if you like my writing or have any criticisms!_

* * *

CHAPTER XXIII

Henry tried his best not to scowl at Sir William Carey, who was mooning openly over his bride. William didn't seem to mind that she'd once been called "The Great Prostitute" or that she'd been a fixture of scandal in a foreign court. For William, what had happened in France was to remain in France. William had a pretty wife, who would most likely give him sons, and he was connected to the slowly rising Boleyn family. He could forget his wife's seedy past when life was so good.

Henry hardly thought of her past misdeeds either- he was too interested in what made her so bright and happy all of the time. There were dozens of giggly girls in his court that he could have if he wanted. The appeal of Mary Boleyn- or rather, Mary Carey- was irresistible. He wondered how long he would have to wait.

It was nearly a fortnight later, and Henry was moving through the corridors in his palace. The court had recently moved to a new location, and Henry enjoyed looking over his palaces after moving into them. His eyes lit up when he saw Lady Mary Carey approaching. She was alone, and Henry thanked his lucky stars. He quickly waved off an attendant who'd been following him, and moved quickly towards Mary.

The corridor was otherwise unoccupied, and Henry couldn't believe his good luck. Mary was about to pass by him, when he reached out his hand and set it gently upon her arm. "Lady Carey," he said softly.

Mary looked up at him, her blue eyes wide and shining, as he'd imagined they would be. "Your majesty."

"Where are you going, my lady?" Henry asked.

"To attend on Princess Catherine, your Grace."

"Take a walk with me first, Lady Carey. I will make your excuses to her highness myself."

"Thank you, your majesty," Mary beamed up at him, and slipped her arm under his as they proceeded down the corridor.

Henry manoeuvred Mary into a slightly less occupied part of the castle. "I've been watching you lately, Lady Carey."

"Have you?" Mary asked, keeping her voice innocent and sweet, "Of course, I've been watching you too."

"Indeed?" Henry turned to face her, taking her hands in his.

"You are the king, sir, and may I say, your illustrious person draws my eyes to you whenever you enter a room," Mary said.

Henry didn't quite know what to say. "I confess, you surprise me."

"Do I? How?" Mary asked.

"I did not think you ever looked at me."

Mary smiled. "Oh, your Grace. How could anyone not? If I am not being too forward, I'd like to say that I've often dreamt of making your closer acquaintance."

"Even when your husband is near?" Henry asked. In these cases of married women, Henry had to have a sense of how closely their husband would figure into any affair.

"My husband? Your majesty, I love my husband. He is a good man, and kind to me. However, he is not quite the man you are," Mary placed her hand gently on his sleeve. "Are you even a man? You seem to be so much more."

This was enough for Henry. He leaned down and promptly pressed his lips to hers. Mary responded eagerly, as though she hadn't been properly kissed in ages.

"Mary, sweet Mary," Henry breathed, "Come to me tonight. Say you will- promise me."

"I would, your majesty, with all my heart, but I think I am expected in my husband's bed tonight."

"Never mind that- he is easily rid of. See, you are now free. Will you come to me?"

"Yes. I will come whenever you send for me."

Henry beamed in triumph, and tried not to laugh aloud at his good fortune. "Let me take you back to Princess Catherine then. But tonight, my dear, is ours." He kissed her once more, before taking her arm and escorting her towards more occupied parts of the palace.

* * *

Katherine Parr winced as her embroidery needle slipped, puncturing her finger. She brought the now-sore finger to her lips and scowled through the pain.

"Are you alright, Mistress Parr?" a sweet voice from beside her asked.

Katherine glanced up, and saw Jane Seymour, her lips downturned in a worried way. "Yes, thank you, Lady Jane."

Jane's face lit up with a smile. "May I sit beside you? I cannot concentrate on the other side of the room."

Katherine glanced to where Jane had been sitting moments ago. Catharine Howard, Madge Shelton, Mary Carey and a few others were sitting there, giggling as they went about their work. "Of course," Katherine answered Jane, motioning to the seat beside her.

Jane sat down. "That is beautiful work, Mistress Parr," she said, "That must have taken you hours."

Katherine glanced down at her embroidery. She'd been stitching the Tudor Rose, surrounded by smaller blue flowers. "I've been working on it for quite some time," she confessed.

"I can tell," Jane said, "I must confess that embroidering and such fancywork are great joys to me. I can spend hours like this. I've heard that you're more fond of reading."

"I am," Katherine replied, "I can spend hours lost in a good book. I once read a book on the history of England in under two hours- and it was no small book."

"Oh, my brother Tom is the reader in our family," Jane said, "I think you and he would get along very well."

"Is that so?" Katherine said mildly. She tried to remember which of the young men at court was a Seymour, but couldn't place Tom Seymour among them.

"I shall have to introduce you sometime," Jane smiled.

"Yes, certainly," Katherine said, more out of politeness than eagerness.

Jane was about to continue when she heard loud, male laughter. The two girls hadn't noticed the Duke of Suffolk, along with a few of his friends, enter. Now, however, they were impossible to ignore as they laughed loudly along with some of the ladies.

"I don't know why they come here so late- we ladies will be retiring soon," Jane said, with more irritation than Katherine had ever seen in her, "Especially while Princess Catherine is at prayer. I wonder if they wait for her to leave. I once heard someone say that she was too moral. Pray tell me, Mistress Parr, how one can be too moral?" Jane shook her head, sincerely confused.

"At a court such as this, that claims to be so modern, comments such as those no longer surprise me," Katherine replied. She glanced back at the gentlemen. She frowned as she saw Charles Brandon lean down and whisper into the ear of Mary Carey. Mary smiled slyly as she took the duke's hand and allowed him to lead her out of the room.

"What on earth-" Katherine said to herself. She glanced around, but no one had seemed to notice Mary taking her leave. Where was she going?

Or, perhaps one other person had noticed. Katherine now saw Jane Parker staring at the door. The girl slowly got to her feet and deftly moved out of the room.

"How strange," Katherine whispered.

"What, Mistress Parr?" Jane asked.

"Oh, nothing, Lady Jane. I was just agreeing with you that the behaviour of the gentlemen is inappropriate."

"The king ought to intervene in this," Jane said, "I know that he himself is a man of morals."

"I should hope he would be," Katherine answered.

But if Mary Boleyn were heading where Katherine strongly suspected she was, perhaps the king wasn't as moralistic as Jane thought.

* * *

Henry awoke with a start when he felt something warm move across his skin. His eyes flickered open, and he looked about him. Mary Carey slid her hand along his chest, watching his face with a small smile on her face. "I did not mean to wake you."

"You stayed the night," Henry rolled over to face her. It'd been awhile since he'd had a woman stay all night in his bed. He usually had them out of his chambers long before morning.

"Yes, you fell asleep," Mary said, moving towards him, "I think you were quite tired." Mary giggled.

Henry grinned. "I'm glad you stayed. I'm glad you came to me last night."

"Of course- I promised I would," Mary replied.

"I hope you will again," Henry said.

"Yes, I will," Mary answered obligingly.

Henry kissed her forehead. "Now, I must go. You ought to dress- perhaps go and bid your husband good morning."

Mary laughed, and seemed not to feel at all badly about making her husband a cuckold. She slipped out of bed, retrieved her nightgown and robe and, after putting them on, went out of the room.

Henry sighed happily. The best part of any affair was the first night. He knew it would be the best he would spend with Lady Mary, but certainly not the last.

Henry got out of bed reluctantly. It would be a busy day for him. First he had to meet with Wolsey. There were matters that apparently needed his immediate attention. After that, Henry would dine with Princess Catherine, since she'd invited him numerous times. Later, he hoped to escape the palace and visit Thomas More, who'd again insisted on leaving court and going back to his home for a while.

Thomas Wolsey was waiting for Henry in the outer rooms of his chambers, as Henry had expected him to be. "Good morning, Wolsey," Henry said.

"Good morning, your majesty," Wolsey said.

"How is my kingdom this morning?" Henry asked.

"In full working order, majesty," Wolsey said.

"Excellent. What business is there?"

"First there is the matter of France, your majesty. It seems that Francis has sent delegates to Spain, and Ferdinand has likewise sent a new ambassador to France."

"And, what of it? Do you suspect a conspiracy of some sort between them? If France allies with Spain, that would be quite damaging to the treaty we only recently signed, wouldn't it?" Henry said.

"If circumstances were such that the two allied against your majesty's realm, then indeed the treaty would be irreparably broken. My spies already inform me that this seems to be the case."

"What cause do they have to be allied against me?" Henry demanded, "What did the Spanish ambassador say? What did the French ambassador say?"

"The French ambassador denied all knowledge of any meeting," Wolsey responded, "Meanwhile, the Spanish ambassador has returned to Spain, citing ill health as the cause."

"Well, tell Ferdinand to send another!" Henry commanded, "I want to know what's going on."

"Word has been sent to Spain. In addition, I have sent men to France to survey the situation. Thomas Cromwell, the young lawman I presented to you not long ago, is among them. He is a most capable servant, majesty, and I have every confidence in him."

"Good. I want to speak to Gilles de la Pommeraie myself. You will have him brought to me."

"Of course majesty- within the hour, if you so desire."

Henry considered this. "No- first thing tomorrow. I have an appointment this morning, and then hope to be gone for the rest of the day."

"An appointment?" Wolsey said in apparent confusion. The king never had any appointments that Wolsey didn't know about, or usually those not arranged by Wolsey himself.

"Yes," Henry said impatiently, "I dine with Princess Catherine."

"Princess Catherine?" Wolsey repeated.

Henry sighed. "Is that all the business for this morning?"

"That is all that is pressing," Wolsey admitted.

"Excellent," Henry said, getting to his feet, "You still don't approve of Princess Catherine, Wolsey?"

"I never disapproved," Wolsey said quickly, "An alliance with Spain and Ferdinand now would perhaps counteract whatever alliance exists between Ferdinand and Francis. However, I have made an extensive list of other potential brides for your majesty- if you majesty would care to see it sometime?"

"Of course," Henry said, "I must marry sometime, and I think it must be sometime soon. The kingdom and I would like a queen."

"I agree, wholeheartedly," Wolsey said.

"Then make your list and whatnot, Wolsey," Henry said, stepping closer to his minister, "And I do expect Catherine's name to be on it, at the very least."

"As your majesty wishes," Wolsey said.

Henry patted his shoulder. "Good man." He made his way out of the room, and towards Catherine's chambers.

Catherine was waiting for him, patiently sitting in her chambers with her ladies. She got to her feet, smiling brightly as he entered. "Good morning, majesty. How pleased I am that you could join me today."

"Your highness," Henry took Catherine's extended hands, "I hope I have not kept you waiting."

"No, certainly not. Please, sit," Catherine motioned to the table, and she and the king sat together.

"How are you, Catherine?" Henry asked.

"I am well, sire," Catherine responded as she motioned for her ladies to begin to serve them, "I have been kept much occupied lately with domestic responsibilities."

"Indeed, but while you are at court, I wish you would grace us with your presence even more. We do not see enough of you, my dear lady," Henry said, with genuine kindness. He glanced up as Mary Carey served his drink. She kept a neutral expression, but looked at the king directly for a moment. He could hardly resist a smile.

"The court has so much to offer, I cannot refuse," Catherine said, glancing at Mary Carey as the lady retreated. Catherine looked at Henry as he took his first bite.

"Delicious," Henry stated, and Catherine was quite pleased.

"I have been informed that the Spanish ambassador has been recalled to Spain," Catherine said casually.

"No, indeed, he was not recalled, but left, due to ill health or some such thing," Henry responded.

"How sad we shall be to lose him," Catherine said, but she couldn't be exactly enthusiastic about her statement. She believed that the Spanish ambassador should spend time promoting her interests to the king, but the recently departed ambassador had never done any such thing.

"Do you communicate often with your father, King Ferdinand?" Henry asked, suddenly quite curious.

"I often send letters, mostly inquiring about his health," Catherine replied, "Since I have been so long in England, I hardly see myself as beholden to my father- though I will always honour him, as God requires. I am most comfortable in your majesty's care."

"I am glad to hear it. I should hate to think that you were ever unhappy. As you are my brother's widow, and my own dear friend and companion."

"I think of your brother sometimes," Catherine admitted softly, "He was so kind to me. He was so young- just a boy. We were both just children."

Henry knew a sly hint when he heard one. Catherine was learning not to openly insist at her continued state of virginity, but references and hints were not something Henry could forbid. He knew that she longed to be married. Sometimes he could even imagine being married to her. But something would always nag at his mind- he could never quite forget Arthur.

A servant entered a short time later, bearing a message for Henry. Henry took the note and quickly read it. He nearly choked upon reading the contents.

"My lord, are you well?" Catherine asked quickly, her eyes wide with concern.

"Quite well, madam, I assure you. Forgive me, you must excuse me," Henry got to his feet.

Catherine also stood. "But- your majesty-" she quickly collected herself, "Of course. I hope it isn't serious."

"Forgive me, Catherine. It is a pressing matter, and I must go," Henry said, "Forgive my rudeness- I will make it up to you."

"Think not of it," Catherine replied, curtsying as the king took his leave.

* * *

Henry rode his horse madly for the next hour, followed by equally indomitable guards. He'd dropped everything, and all other matters were erased from his mind. His sole purpose was to find out if what he'd read in that note were true. If it were true, what would it mean for him? What would it mean for England?

Henry's brow furrowed in determination as he saw a modest-sized country home on the horizon. He urged his horse onward, though the animal was tired. Nothing would stop Henry.

Finally, he and his guards arrived at the manor, and he dismounted quickly. Leaving his horse to the care of his attendants, and forgetting his own tiredness, Henry burst in.

He was quite surprised to find Wolsey already there, talking quietly with a few ladies. When Wolsey saw the king enter, he quickly waved the ladies away and went to meet his master.

"Wolsey!" Henry reached forward and grabbed his minister by the shoulders, "Is it true? Tell me quickly, man, is it true?"

"Yes, your majesty," Wolsey said, "Mistress Blount has given birth to a boy."

Henry stared off into space over Wolsey's shoulder. "I have a son," he murmured.

"An illegitimate son," Wolsey said delicately.

"Forget that for now! A son, Wolsey. By God, I don't know why I've waited so long!" Henry laughed.

"Yes, your majesty. In fact, there are some matters to go over-"

"Not just now Wolsey. Where is he? Where is my son?"

Wolsey was frustrated with the king, but hid it with a clenching of his jaw. He motioned over his shoulder, and a maid appeared to lead the king to the lady and baby.

Henry hurried the startled maid along, and she led him along the corridors, with Wolsey on their heels, to a chamber. Henry held up his hands at Wolsey and the maid. "I shall go in alone," he said.

"Yes, majesty," Wolsey said, and the maid quickly slipped away.

Henry took a deep breath, and went into the bedchamber. He took in the scene quickly. Bessie was in the bed, sound asleep. Ladies were bustling around her, arranging her hair and bed-sheets. "Leave," Henry said. The women flinched, and quickly exited the room. Henry barely noticed them. His eyes were on the tiny cradle beside Bessie's bed. He moved towards it slowly, not making a sound. Reaching the cradle, he leaned over, and was surprised when his breath caught in his throat.

Bessie woke, and watched with a small smile as the king lifted the tiny baby out of the cradle. She didn't dare speak, even to point out how to properly hold the child, and was relieved when Henry supported the head and body of the baby.

Henry stared, amazed at the baby in his hands. The baby let out a small cry, and Henry pulled it nearer to comfort him. "There, there," Henry said softly. He chuckled to himself, and Bessie watched the king and the baby. "I have a son," Henry whispered, and then announced louder to the empty room, "I have a son!"


End file.
